In Jack's Arms Read online

  Toes curled and calves flexing, I chased that panicky, shuddering feeling that vibrated in my lower belly. Jack pinched my nipple, twisting the taut peak just a bit, and I exploded with sheer ecstasy. "Ah!"

  Growling like a damned bear, Jack shifted between my thighs until his chest brushed against my breasts. He captured my mouth, muffling my cries of pleasure, and snapped his hips with incredible speed, slamming his cock into me again and again. The unending waves of my climax stole my breath. I burned with pleasure and grasped at Jack, holding on to his shoulders as he bent me in half and pounded into me. "Jack! Yes!"

  "Abby." He groaned my name and shook in my arms. With his cheek to mine, he jerked a few times and spilled his seed. The spreading heat soothed me and made me feel so intimately connected to him. There was something comforting about the knowledge that this was something we had only ever shared with each other. It felt intensely special.

  When Jack finally sat up, he dragged me with him, hefting me up onto his lap with his thick shaft still fully embedded within me. He cupped my nape and took his time kissing me. Tongues dueling, we were perfectly content and relaxed. Only the knowledge that we were in the locker room at his gym spurred us to make ourselves presentable again.

  Jack grabbed his soap and towels from his locker and tugged me into one of the shower stalls. He wasn't about to pass up the chance to get his hands back on my naked body, and after years of fantasizing about having Jack Connolly doing just that, I wasn't about to stop him. Consumed by his kisses and gentle petting, I leaned into him and silently hoped that all of our disagreements ended this way.

  "What time does Mattie get back from the game with Detective Santos?" Jack asked as we got dressed.

  "It will be late." I shimmied back into the black workout capris. "Probably close to midnight. Why?"

  "I wanted to know if we needed to hurry home or not," Jack said, shrugging into his shirt. "You want to grab some dinner?"

  "Dressed like this?" I motioned to my gym wear. "No, thanks."

  "We could hit up a drive-thru," he offered. "I don't feel like cooking tonight, and I'm sure you don't either."

  "Not particularly," I agreed and glanced around the locker room. "Shit."

  "What?"

  "I dropped my bag when you picked me up. I was so pissed at you that I didn't even think to go back and get it. My wallet and everything is out there."

  "I'm sure Finn spotted it after he ended the class. He probably stowed it in the office."

  My face flamed at the idea of seeing Finn or my classmates again. "I don't think I'll come back to class ever again."

  "Why?" Jack asked with a laugh. "Because we made love in a locker room?" He pulled me close and kissed away my embarrassment. "This is my gym. We didn't inconvenience anyone. The only other man who might have needed to use the locker room is Finn—and I'd like to see him lodge a complaint."

  "Still," I said, patting his chest. "We can't do this again. It's unprofessional. It could put you at risk."

  "For?"

  "A lawsuit? Bad press? People are crazy, Jack. If they can sue over hot coffee, they can sue over being subjected to the sounds of us going at it in here like a couple of horny teenagers."

  He grunted and pecked my cheek. "Fine. But—at least you let me cross this off my bucket list."

  "Oh?"

  "Yep. Locker Room Fantasy with Abby Kirkwood." He made a swiping motion. "Check."

  "I'm almost afraid to ask what else might be on that list."

  "You'll find out soon enough." Jack gave my backside a swat that left me tingling. "Put on your shoes. We'll grab your bag, shut down the gym and get out of here."

  When we stepped out of the locker room, Jack had to practically drag me along behind him. He gave my hand a squeeze and shot me a look that said he wouldn't let anyone say a word about what we had done. He bolstered my courage, but I was secretly relieved that the gym was totally empty except for Finn who was wiping down equipment.

  "Your bag is over there." The middle Connolly brother pointed to a nearby bench. "You might want to be more careful when you're carrying around expensive equipment like that, Abby."

  I frowned at his comment. "My cell phone?"

  Finn glanced up from his work. "No, that video camera."

  "Video camera?" Confused, I walked over the bench and unzipped my bag. There, nestled in between my workout clothes and towel, was a video camera I had never before seen. "This isn't mine."

  "It fell out of your bag when I picked it up." Finn spritzed another bench and began to wipe away the lemony cleanser. "I assumed it was yours."

  "Maybe Mattie stuck it in there?" Jack suggested as he peered over my shoulder. "He brought me Pop's watch the other day. Maybe this belongs to some other customer he likes and wanted to help. Where do you keep your gym bag?"

  "In my office."

  "So he would have had easy access," Jack said. "Is there a barcode?"

  I flipped the camera over and spotted one on the edge. "Here." My stomach flip-flopped. "And it's smudged."

  Jack exhaled roughly. "It's another one of Dan's pieces."

  "Yes. These things are like bad pennies! I can't get rid of them."

  "Do I even want to know?" Finn asked as he came to stand next to Jack.

  Because the word would be out soon enough, I explained, "Dan was fencing stolen property in the shop that he bought from Flea. He said he needed money."

  "I'm not surprised. That kid of his has a nasty habit."

  Surprised by Finn's remark, I glanced up at him. "What sort of habit?"

  "Coke. The kid was with Flea a couple of weeks ago. One of those nights where I let Flea come in and get a shower and have a hot meal," he added. "I could tell right away that the kid was blitzed out of his mind on cocaine. I tried to get him to come to a meeting but he wasn't ready. Last I heard from Flea, the kid was in some deep shit over some weight he had been moving on campus."

  "Are you serious?" I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Dan's son is dealing drugs at college?"

  "He was," Finn confirmed. "The trouble isn't the legal kind either. Flea said that the kid owed a lot of money to Lalo Contreras."

  I swore softly. "He's tied in with one of those Mexican cartels, right?"

  "Big time," Finn said. "So if Dan was trying to make money on the side in your shop, it was probably to clear away that debt."

  "I would have given him the money. All he had to do was tell me how serious this was, and I would have given him whatever he needed." That was the part that hurt the most. Dan hadn't trusted me to help him. After all the years we had known each other, he hadn't believed in me.

  "Turn it on." Jack issued his order and tapped at the camera. "Let's see what's on this."

  "Why?"

  "Because someone broke into your store the other night and took every single camera except for this one," Jack said. "What if this is the one they really wanted?"

  I pushed the switch on the small device and shifted it so that both of the Connolly brothers could see the screen. There was only one thumbnail on the device so I clicked on it and waited for the video to load. At first, the light was so bright I couldn’t make out the scene. The camera angle shifted quickly, and a man's naked chest was the only thing that could be seen.

  When the man in the video moved back a little, the camera's focus automatically zeroed in and cleared up the image. A massive and ornate tattoo of an Aztec warrior had been inked on his sternum. It was the type of art I sometimes saw on the Latin street gangs around town. The other tattoos on his belly and chest told me the guy had seen a lot of prison time. A piece that looked like the Mexican sugar skulls sold around Halloween caught my eye. It was similar to the logo worn by one of the vicious outlaw motorcycle gangs that operated in the area. The same motorcycle club that Marley's stepdad served as vice president…

  The man stepped to the side and disappeared from the shot. A big bed waited for him. I quickly picked up the fact that this was a sex tape. He called
out to his lady in Spanish, urging her to hurry up and join him in their romp.

  "Um…" I reached up to end the film, but Jack gently clasped my wrist.

  "Leave it for a few more seconds."

  "Perv," I groused softly.

  He just snorted with amusement and kissed the top of my head. "I didn't hear you complaining in that locker room."

  Now it was Finn who snorted with laughter. "No, but we all heard the enthusiasm."

  I wanted to die, but Finn flicked my earring in a good-natured and teasing way. I started to understand that this was the sort of ribbing I could expect in the future. If Jack had his way, I would be hanging around with the Connolly family for a long, long time.

  On camera, a scantily clad woman bounded into the shot. She was a pretty younger woman, younger than me even, with white-blonde hair and skin with a fake tan so new it was still on the orange end of the spectrum. Her choice of makeup styles screamed porn star or some other sex work with the deep, smoky eye shadow and thick, wet lips. Her eyebrows had been plucked thin and traced with a dark brow pencil.

  The younger woman squealed with delight as the Aztec warrior tossed her down on the bed and climbed on top of her. She wrapped her thighs around the older man's waist as he ripped her clothing, leaving her naked and breathless.

  "Ay, papi," she said in an exaggerated voice as he kissed his way down her body.

  The Aztec warrior laughed, his voice husky and thick and the sort I would expect from a pack-a-day smoker. He started talking dirty to her in Spanish, the filthy phrases making the very tips of my ears go hot. I didn't know how much more of all this naughty foreplay I could watch with my lover and his brother only inches behind me. It felt intensely wrong and inappropriate.

  But, before I could switch off the camera, I noticed the bedroom door, only barely visible in the mirror hanging next to the bed, swing silently open. Like some sort of slow motion horror film, I watched as a masked and gloved man dressed in black from head to toe crept into the room totally unnoticed by the amorous couple on the bed.

  I gasped when he stretched a long, thin wire between his hands. With my brain refusing to compute what my eyes were seeing, I stared on in utter shock and horror as the assassin caught the Aztec warrior by surprise and wrapped the wire around his throat. With one quick and clean jerk, he garroted the tattooed man. Slapping and gagging and choking, the Aztec warrior fought valiantly, but the assassin was too skilled.

  The terrified woman shrieked and tried to claw her way off the bed as the killer dropped her lover to the ground like a sack of rocks. The assassin snatched her ankle and dragged her to the edge of the bed. I didn't think I would ever forget the screeching sounds she made as the man put a knee in the center of her back, pushing her down against the mattress, and slipped the garroting wire around her throat. Squeezing and tugging, the killer choked the life right out of her, leaving her limp and dangling over the edge of the bed.

  Stunned speechless by what we had just witnessed, the three of us watched the screen, unable to move and hardly able to breathe. The assassin left the room and returned with a heavy black bag that he placed on the bed. He began to set out the tools of his trade—tarps, jugs of bleach, paper towels, trash bags. When he retrieved a saw, I thought I would be sick. I handed over the camera to Jack, my fingers shaking and my stomach lurching. Just before I stepped away from the camera, the assassin on the screen peeled off his mask and revealed his face to us as he answered a call.

  "Yes? It's done."

  And then I understood what the break-in was about. This man—this killer—had missed a crucial piece of evidence. "Was it a hit?"

  "Yes." Jack's voice was tight, strained. "A victim with those kinds of tattoos? A killer with that type of kit? This was professional. It was expensive."

  "It's cartel business," Finn said knowingly. "That Aztec had the skull tattoo of the outlaw motorcycle crew that runs guns for Romero Valero out of Mexico. Who the hell would be ballsy enough to order a hit on one of his men? Someone very powerful. Someone incredibly motivated to keep it quiet." Finn combed his fingers through his hair. "This is bad, Jack. Really fucking bad."

  The full reality of our dangerous situation hit me like a big rig truck. This was a world I knew virtually nothing about, and it was a world that could get me, Mattie, Finn or Jack killed. There was only one man in the entire world that could advise me in a situation like this.

  Certain Jack was going to flip his fucking lid, I mustered my courage and stated the obvious. "We need Besian's help."

  Chapter Seven

  Of all the things Jack had expected Abby to say after witnessing a brutal hit, the Albanian mob boss' name wasn't one of them.

  "No." Jack shut the video screen and switched off the power. "He's not the type of man you go to for help."

  "Ordinarily, I would agree with you," she said, "but this is an extraordinary circumstance." She pointed to the camera and then the three of them. "We've just seen a hit between rival cartels or gangs. That's out of our league, Jack. That's not our world. We need someone who knows the score." She gulped and hugged herself. "We need someone powerful to protect us."

  "We could go to the police." Even as he said it, Jack knew it was a non-starter. There were certain things even the police couldn't do and protecting them from a ruthless hitman was one of them.

  "No way!" Abby's hand cut through the air. "Do you remember that awful car chase in January? When that guy who was in protective custody with the US Marshals was murdered by Romero Valero? If the Feds couldn’t keep someone safe from him then, why would I trust them now? Why would I trust them to keep his enemies away from me or Mattie or you or Finn?"

  Jack hated to agree with her. The murky, violent world of Houston's underbelly wasn't one that he understood. It left him feeling impotent and powerless. He had sworn that he would protect Abby and her brother, and now he didn't know where to start.

  Except that he did. Everything Abby said was true. There were only two men in all of Houston who could help them now, but Jack only had connections—however tenuous—to the Albanian outfit.

  The thought of going to Besian soured his gut—but he would do it for Abby and Mattie.

  He turned to Finn who seemed to be awaiting orders. "Tell Kelly to bunk with Bee tonight. Get his room ready for Mattie. I'll take Abby to her place to pack whatever they'll need. We'll call Eric and get him to drop Mattie at our house."

  "What do I tell Kelly?"

  "Nothing." Jack hated the thought of dragging his brother or Bee into this mess. "You've already seen the video so it can't be helped." He placed his hand on Finn's shoulder and gave it a squeeze as guilt gripped him. "I'm sorry, bro."

  "For what?" Finn shrugged nonchalantly. "Whether I saw the video or not, I would have gotten involved in this. Abby and Mattie mean the world to you. That makes them family as far as I'm concerned. We protect our family."

  "Yes, we do." He caught Abby's panicked gaze and noticed the way she seemed to relax a little at the realization that she had the full might of the Connolly brothers behind her. Even if they tried to keep Kelly out of the loop, he would find a way to get the full story eventually. Then he would be right there with Finn, standing to shoulder-to-shoulder with Jack to fight off whoever dared to threaten one of their women.

  Their plan made, Jack grasped Abby's hand and interlaced their fingers. He maintained contact with her in hopes of reassuring the woman he loved that she was going to be all right. He had no doubts that the next few days were going to be tense and dangerous, but they would find a way out of this alive and whole. There was simply no other choice for him. He had made his promise to her and he wasn't about to break it.

  After Abby gathered the things she needed from her car, they locked it and left it in the parking lot. While he drove away from the gym, she traded texts with Eric. "He wants to know why I'm changing plans. What do I tell him?"

  Jack considered the options. "Tell him that I screwed up the dishwasher repair and f
looded the house. You're staying with us until I get the floors fixed."

  Abby's thumb danced across her cell phone screen. She slipped her phone back into her bag and sat back. Her gaze drifted to the window, and he reached for her hand. He hated to interrogate her now, especially after the shock of that awful video, but it had to be done.

  "Tell me about your relationship with Besian."

  Her gaze snapped toward him. "Why?"

  "Because I'm about to walk into the lion's den, Abby, and I need to know all the angles. I need to know the history you have with this man." The memory of his family's run-in with the gangster and loan shark twisted his gut. "Between Besian and Hagen, we nearly lost the gym and Kelly a few weeks ago. We were in deep—hundreds of thousands of dollars—and it was Kelly's fists and Bee's selfless love for him that saved us."

  Abby's sharp gasp at the mention of the dollar amounts involved convinced him she hadn't known the full extent of his family's entanglement. "My God, Jack! That's terrible. I had no idea. I mean—I had heard that your dad was on the line for some big loans, but no one ever let it slip that it was that much."

  "I don't like Besian, and I don't like John Hagen." He wanted that clear right up front. "I think they're both scum."

  "But?"

  "But if keeping you and Mattie safe means I have to get down and dirty with a criminal asshole like Besian Beciraj, I'll do it."

  "Jack, I would never ask you to do that." She squeezed his hand. "You're too good a man for that kind of thing. Whatever Besian wants, I'll give it to him if it means we'll all come out of this alive."

  "Like hell!" He disabused her of that notion quickly. "Do you know what he does? What sort of ways he makes his money?" Jack swallowed hard at the idea of Besian calling in a favor and forcing Abby onto one of his glittered stages. "The man is little more than a pimp with his strip clubs. The chop shops he's rumored to run aren’t any better. I won't even touch the lending side of his business or the gambling. No." His voice cracked like a gunshot in the truck's cab. "You aren't making any deals with him."