Ruthless Sentinel Page 9

  Marisa continued to work out of her old bedroom, but Father wouldn’t even allow Fab to visit—or any other of my friends for that matter. I refused to cancel the photo shoots he’d scheduled for me in the hopes that Father would change his mind in the weeks ahead.

  The thought of having Logan watch me work in front of a camera lit tingles between my thighs.

  He’d been around, but completely shut down and unavailable after holding me that night. I’d woken in my bed the next morning, not remembering having walked back up the stairs and down the hallway or even crawling beneath my blankets.

  My need for dick returned, and my vibrator wasn’t cutting it.

  Logan sat in the security room off the foyer as I lay in bed. Alone. Unsatisfied. Needy. It hadn’t taken much to make him cave the first time...

  I glanced over at my alarm clock, the blue numbers acting as a nightlight. Father and Mother always retired by ten. That hour had fled by, and I’d heard Marisa shut herself in her room across the hallway at least a half-hour earlier while I’d been reading my favorite author’s newest MC novel. The dirty-talking hero and the first sex scene had me reaching for my vibrator.

  But I needed more.

  Nibbling my lower lip, I slid out of bed, listening at the door with my ear pressed against it.

  Logan would know the second I slipped into the hallway. Would he meet me in the foyer again or ignore me, thinking I needed a late-night snack as I’d done twice before in the previous weeks when unable to eat dinner over Father’s bitching?

  Time to find out.

  I turned the knob and eased the door open, slipping into the quiet hallway with a slow exhale. Door once more silently shut behind me, I crept down the hallway to the balcony overlooking the foyer.

  No Logan, I noted, my bare feet cold on the wooden treads. The security room/closet’s door stood cracked open a good six inches, and I could see Logan’s thigh where he sat at the desk. His fingers tapped on his knee as I reached the landing and started his way.

  I pushed in the door, and he finally turned to look up at me. “Everything alright?”

  “Couldn’t sleep.”

  His gaze narrowed as he studied my face—as though he read the lie on my face.

  “Can I curl up on your lap again?”

  He let out a heavy exhale, but didn’t say no.

  I snicked the door shut behind me and sat—straddling him rather than curling like I’d asked, the t-shirt I wore to bed riding high up my thighs.

  “Giada,” he half-groaned my name, his hands coming to rest inches from my aching core.

  I slid closer, my hands grasping at his nape, his short hair tickling my palms. “I need you.”

  The muscle in his sharp jaw clenched, his blue eyes full of lust—and regret. “We can’t do this.”

  “Sure we can.” I licked over his bottom lip, and his fingertips dug into my skin. “Everyone else is sleeping. No one can see us in here,” I whispered, our breath hot against each other’s mouths.

  “Goddamn you, Giada.” He took my lips with a bruising kiss, jerking me tight against his swelling cock.

  I moaned and ground myself against his length as he owned my mouth. Obliterated everything but need from my head. My skin came alive beneath his touch as he shoved my shirt around my waist, his fingers finding my soaked core smearing all over his jeans.

  He shoved two fingers deep inside me, and I gasped into his mouth, biting at his lip.

  “More.”

  A third—and I saw fucking stars as he tangled his hand in my hair and took me deeper with his tongue and lips. My pussy pulsed around his thrusting fingers—but it wasn’t enough.

  I wrenched my head back, his hold tingling my scalp—and shooting lust straight to my clit. “I want you inside me, Logan. Now.”

  He pulled his fingers from my dripping pussy and licked them clean while I fumbled to free his cock. The deep groan rumbling his chest from my taste sent another rush of wetness, readying my pussy for his big cock.

  A shift of his hips along with my frantic hands freed him, and he yanked me into his arms—and down onto his jutting length with one thrust.

  “Oh, God.” I gasped, my gaze ensnared by his.

  “Fuck yourself on my dick, Giada.”

  Yes, fucking, sir.

  I lifted and lowered, ground my clit against his pelvis, working the hell out of my thighs and abs, all the while fighting off the tingles in my toes that promised climax.

  “You feel so fucking good, baby.” He grasped one of my tits and held it up to his mouth while I bounced on him. “Tight.” Nibble. “Wet.” A deep suck. “Fucking heaven.”

  My climax hovered, and I closed my eyes, panting and licking my lower lip.

  “Come all over my dick. Cream me up good, baby.”

  Logan reached between us and snagged hold of my clit with two fingers, squeezing—fucking pinching me.

  I inhaled to let out a shriek, and he crashed his lips against mine, swallowing my cries as my pussy clamped down on his thrusting length. He groaned into my mouth, every stab of his cock against my cervix drawing out my climax.

  Heat erupted deep inside me, his dick pulsing as he grunted.

  Breathless, I sagged against his chest, our hearts pounding in time.

  Yes. Fucking yes.

  A sated, sticky mess, I smiled while coming back down to earth.

  Logan exhaled heavily. “Goddamnit, Giada.” Regret laced his tone.

  “Don’t you dare shut down on me,” I muttered as he shifted me away from his chest, his cock still thick inside me.

  He glanced around me, his brow furrowed—checking the cameras, I realized. “This has to stop.”

  “No chance in hell,” I murmured, still smiling and reaching up to drag my fingernail down his t-shirt tightly enclosed over his hard chest.

  Logan grasped my hand and stopped me.

  I lifted my focus to his eyes—his beautiful, closed off blue eyes. “Stubborn ass.”

  “Twice now you’ve gotten me to let down my guard, and it can’t happen again.” He peered at me, a muscle in his jaw clenching. “I know you can’t stand your father, but if something happens to him on my watch when I’m fucking around with you rather than doing my job, you’ll never forgive me.”

  I opened my mouth to tell him he didn’t know just how much I couldn’t stand my prick of a father, but he continued.

  “Think of your mother. Your sister. They would lose him, too.”

  My lips pressed tightly together. I hated that he had a point.

  Our breaths sounded loud in the small room that smelled of sex and lilacs. The most luscious, head-spinning scent in the world...

  My heart clenched as his eyes shut down on me—as he shut me out. “You don’t want me.”

  “I have to protect your father, Giada.”

  He’s choosing Father over me.

  I climbed off his lap onto shaky legs, our cum dripping down my thighs. Swallowing against the tightness in my throat, I turned and let myself out, his lack of calling after me telling me all I needed to know.

  ****

  The days passed, and February arrived—along with two other new guards from Tellier Security.

  I didn’t ask. Didn’t care.

  When Father insisted the whole family attend his rally in some hoe-bunk town in western Mass, I gritted my teeth. While I hated the idea of being stuck in a car with him for a few hours, I would at least get a change of scenery.

  He bitched the entire ride, not that I’d expected otherwise.

  At least no guard sat in the back with us to hear his rants, see his childish pouting. Narcistic asshole. Prick.

  And, it only got worse when we arrived and he took to the stage.

  He milked Cristian’s death for all it was worth, fake ass tears in his eyes and all, working the crowd for their compassion.

  My stomach churned, and I’d had enough.

  Fuck this, and fuck the family. I’m done.

  Father’s g
uards stood around the room, Greed and Drew Tellier himself, aka Warden, behind the podium. I eyed the door to my left where I sat at the end of the aisle. One of the house guards stood ahead of it, facing the stage.

  Logan, I knew, stood at the back of the cavernous hall, far enough away I’d be able to sneak off once the crowd got going.

  Ten minutes later, Father’s voice rose, his fist pumping the air about some bullshit or another, and the crowd surged to its feet and cheered. I slipped out of my chair, eyeing the guard who didn’t turn my way. Three quick steps put me in front of the door.

  Heart pounding, I eased it shut behind me quietly even though the crowd continued to cheer and chant Father’s name. A bunch of sheep led by a liar—typical politician and the fucktwat idiots who couldn’t think for themselves—couldn’t discern the bullshit face he put on in the hopes of gaining power.

  Adrenaline rushed through me as I clutched my coat and purse close, hurrying up the inclined hallway. I expected a guard stood sentry in the lobby—if so, I’d use the excuse of looking for the bathroom.

  An exit sign overhead pointed down another hallway to my right, and I hesitated all of two seconds before hurrying that way instead of toward the lobby.

  I would need to get an Uber or taxi … and pray they’d take me all the way back east to my condo where I’d left behind more than enough personal belongings to grab for my flight.

  Vegas, I told myself, hurrying toward the door directly ahead of me with the glowing exit sign above.

  A hand grasped my arm from behind, and I shrieked.

  “Where the hell are you going?”

  Logan. Fuck.

  I gulped, my heart pounding, suddenly breathless. “Leaving,” I managed, my voice shaking.

  He scowled. “What do you mean leaving?”

  “Getting the fuck out of here—away from Father, away from you!”

  Logan jerked me back the way we’d come.

  “Let me go!” I hissed, beating at his arm with my purse.

  He shoved in a door—janitor’s closet—and did as I’d asked, slamming the door shut behind him and flicking on a light.

  “Don’t leave me.” His words took the air right out of my damn sails, and I sagged, all fight gone in a flash.

  “I-I didn’t think you wanted me.”

  Logan took a step closer, his gaze flooding with so much more than lust. “I don’t just want you—I fucking need you.”

  My purse fell to the floor, my coat right along with it, and he closed the short distance between us, yanking me up into his arms, his hungry mouth attacking mine. I met him bruising kiss for bruising kiss, lashing teeth and moans, grasping at his suit coat, his shoulders.

  He reached beneath my skirt and ripped my panties off, shoving two fingers inside me before I realized what he’d done.

  “God,” I groaned, tipping my head back as he nipped at my chin, my jaw.

  “This pussy...” He finger fucked me while sucking on my neck, his deep growls and groans enticing wetness out of me as much as his thrusting fingers.

  “Gonna come,” I gasped as he rubbed deep inside my inner wall.

  Holding his gaze as he pulled away to look into my eyes, I panted, waiting for the tingles in my toes to sweep up and over my body, for my climax to own me as his fingers and gaze did. The wet sounds of his fingers fucking into me battled our heightened breaths to fill the silence around us.

  My breath caught once—twice—and then my climax took control of my body.

  “Giada,” he whispered my name like he worshiped at my feet, his fingers drawing every last spasm from my pussy as I whimpered and gasped for breath.

  He backed off, quick as fuck, touching the mic on his lapel, his mask slipping back into place as he glanced away. “Come again?”

  Someone spoke in his ear, I realized as his face hardened and lips pursed.

  Muffled screams sounded outside the closet’s door—my heart stopped as our gazes collided.

  “Stay here!” Logan barked at me and spun to leave.

  “Logan! What’s going on?” I shrieked as he yanked open the door.

  “Shots fired!” He slammed the door behind him, and I stood trembling. Alone and breathless. My heart in my throat, my mind buzzing, all trace of satiated bliss ripped from my body at his two words.

  I huddled in a corner, my fist against my mouth, more worried he ran toward danger than what might have happened to the rest of my family.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Stone

  People flooded the hallway, and I fought against the crowd, desperate to get to where they’d escaped from.

  Distracted … and look what the fuck happened...

  “Where’s the shooter?” I shouted at Warden in the small mic on my coat.

  “Shots came from the back—where are you?”

  Not where the fuck I was supposed to be.

  “I’m headed your way.” I hugged the wall, shoving and pushing as much as the screaming people rushing past, desperate to get to the podium where Warden had told me they’d gone down when shots fired. “Burtonelli?”

  “Senator took one to the shoulder—Marisa to the face.”

  “Fuck!” He must have called her onto stage after I’d followed Giada out of the hall.

  “She’s alive,” Warden’s voice came through the earpiece before I could ask. “Greed’s on the phone with 911.”

  “Shooter down!” Sin hollered, out of breath—he and one of the family guards had been stationed at the back exit.

  A stream of people still attempted to get through the side door where Giada had escaped from, but I shoved past, not bothering to help up a young guy I knocked to the floor.

  Warden huddled on the podium, gun in hand, face stern as he watched the crowd, his back to the fallen judge and daughter. Mrs. Burtonelli sprawled over Marisa, and her shrieks reached my ears above those of the crowd still jammed in the massive room.

  Greed stood off to the side, cell tucked against his ear and talking, his gun also out and at the ready, scanning the crowd. One of the family guards knelt by the judge.

  I rushed onto the stage, a quick glance down letting me know Burtonelli would live—his guard pressed a handful of tissues against his bleeding shoulder, his face pale as death even though no other bullet holes appeared to have ripped through his suit.

  Marisa lay alongside him, one side of her face a mangled, fucking mess, her mother sobbing over her unmoving form.

  “Goddamnit.” I knelt beside her, my fingers on her neck. A slow, but steady pulse thumped against my fingertips.

  “She’s gonna be okay,” I told Mrs. Burtonelli while twisting to pull the judge’s hankie from his suit coat. “Hold this!” I barked at his wife while pressing it to the side of Marisa’s face oozing with blood.

  Mrs. Burtonelli continued to sob, her gut wrenching cries twisting my stomach, but I pulled myself away.

  “Where’s Giada?” Warden asked, his back still toward us as the crowd melted out the exits.

  “Safe.”

  Sirens sounded, and I sprinted up the center aisle, pressing the button on my mic again. “Where are you, Sin?”

  “Out front to the left—cops just arrived.”

  “Fucker still alive?”

  “Couldn’t take the chance, Stone. Had to put him down.”

  Lips pursed, I shoved my gun back in its shoulder holster and slammed open the door, stepping into the bright sunshine—and frigid cold. My breath fogged with quick pants as I scanned my surroundings.

  At least ten cop cars swarmed the parking lot—cops rushing my way and more toward my right.

  “Burtonelli is behind the podium with two security officers,” I told the cops as they approached.

  They rushed past me with drawn guns—the reason I’d put mine away even though there could have been another shooter.

  Sin stepped back from a sprawled form on the ground as the cops approached him. He, too, put his gun away as they neared, shouting at him to do so. />
  One cop grabbed him by the bum arm, and I caught Sin’s wince as he shoved my brother to the ground.

  “I’m with the security detail!” Sin hollered but lay still, allowing them to do their job without resistance.

  EMTs approached me, bags jostling in their hands.

  “Two down behind the podium,” I told them, turning to lead the way and raising my voice so they’d hear me. “Judge took a bullet to the shoulder, his daughter to her face. Steady pulse, but she’s unconscious.”

  The cops had swarmed the stage, but at least Warden and Greed hadn’t been thrown to the ground like Sin.

  Praying like fuck Giada had stayed put—and there wasn’t a second shooter—I sprinted back toward the closet I’d left her in.

  Death-like silence hovered over the hallway, my feet slamming into the carpet with muffled stomps as I rushed to get back to her. Adrenaline rushed through my blood, thumping heartbeats in my ears.

  Please be there. Please be there.

  I yanked the door handle and shoved it in—darkness.

  “Logan!” Giada’s shriek rushed relief through me, and her barreling body nearly tackled me to the ground as I flicked on the light, her hands running all over me, her gaze a frantic caress from the top of my head to my chest and back up before I yanked her against me. “You’re alright,” she said with a sob against my chest.

  I crushed her to me, so fucking relieved she was alright, that my damn throat tightened my breath right the fuck off.

  I’d been distracted—and it could have cost Marisa her life. Arturo might have won that round, but time would tell. Had I been at the hall’s back corner where I’d been stationed rather than following after Giada, I might have been able to stop the shooter.

  Knowing I’d protected Giada should have eased my guilt.

  It didn’t, and I fought Pop’s whisperings of failure in the back of my head.