Warning: This chapter includes a 🌶️🌶️ scene which will be marked within the text. Feel free to skip.
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Houston, Texas
June 2024
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"What the hell was that about?" Anton's glare slices into me with anger. "You just let them drive off? It's the middle of the night and we are fucking stranded here. I'm exhausted and want to go to the hotel."
I raise my hand to quiet him. "Just give me a minute, okay?"
I drop on one of the benches in front of the deserted restaurant. Burying my face into my hands, I massage my forehead.
How could I've let it come so far?
Anton sits down across from me and pulls my head into his lap. His strokes through my curls sooth the turmoil ripping through my body. "Hey, what's wrong?"
"She has been fucking playing me." A few tears are caught by Anton's jeans.
"You sure?"
"I tried to ignore it, but some of her reactions were totally off. Like tonight at dinner. I told her that her son wasn't killed by a Disciple, but from the way she looked at me, it was obvious she knew the truth. There were other times where I was almost certain that she was lying, but I always made excuses. And then she fed me this bullshit that she didn't have to give Jackson Pierce anything for letting her go." I huff. "I mean, how fucking likely is that?"
"Yeah, there's no way that happened." He leans over and cradles me close. "Don't sweat it. We all get fooled sometimes."
I snort. "When did you ever get played?"
"Maybe I'm the exception."
"What do you think she gave Jackson?"
"There are only two things. She either snitched on Murphy, or she told him the name of the hotel we are staying at. Could even be both."
"You don't think it might've been sex?"
"Nah. I heard that Jackson only visits brothels when he has a job in some backwater country and be done with it. That bitch Maren Birch burned him too good for him to mess with another woman in his own bed. No, I'm sure Chelsea either leaked that Murphy betrayed him or she gave up your location. Nothing other than that has value to Jackson."
The idea of Jackson Pierce knowing how to find me is terrifying. "We should get another room and only go back to the old hotel for our stuff." And take enough manpower, just to be on the safe side, in case of a shootout. I huddle closer into Anton's embrace, indulging in the warmth emitting from his skin. The familiar scent of his spicy aftershave gives me an odd sense of comfort. Even the pain in my head is silent.
He rubs my back. "There's a hotel right next door."
"I don't want to move."
He chuckles. "I could toss you over my shoulder and carry you."
"Yeah, and give me a good few hits on the ass. I'm sure you'd like that." I free myself from his arms and search his eyes for the familiar spark. The shiner has faded enough to be barely noticeable and our fight seems like eons ago. I stroke the blemished skin.
He leans into my touch. "We should stop if you don't intend to take this further."
"I hate when we argue."
"In this instance, you had every right to be angry. I overstepped, and I'm sorry."
I arch a brow. "Anton Worcheck apologizing?" That's a first.
"Hey, I can admit when I'm wrong."
"Since when?"
"Since you grew a set of balls." He traces my bottom lip with his thumb. "I like this new Bastian."
"If you put it like that, let's get a room."
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Fifteen minutes later, I turn on the faucet and step into the shower. The new hotel room is a dump but will have to do for a night. With a sigh, I let the hot water pelt down on me. Emptiness pounds inside me, although I have no idea why Chelsea's betrayal upsets me so much. Sure, the time we spent together was nice and the sex was even better, but she's still a woman I hardly know. I shouldn't feel so crappy.
🌶️🌶️
The door to the stall opens and Anton squeezes inside. It's tight but gives us a chance for some wet skin-on-skin contact. I lean against the wall and allow his mouth to claim mine; he's demanding and in control, his hand stroking the inside of my thigh. Our tongues rediscover each other and I desperately try not to compare his hard mouth to Chelsea's tender lips. His powerful hips to her soft curves. His cock pressing against my stomach to the warmth of her welcoming folds.
With an exhale, I let go of the tension and focus on the here and now. On Anton. On the good times we've had together. It almost works, even if a small part of me aches for Chelsea's touch.
Fuck.
Somehow, Anton manages to get on his knees. He traces kisses along my shaft, his tongue circling the tip of my cock until I'm as hard as a rock. As he sucks in my length, I push further into his mouth. His lips fit snugly around my dick and send shivers through my body. Thrusting my hips, I lean my head back and let the warm water caress my face. Anton takes me deep; the heat is building fast. I entangle my fingers in his hair to dictate the rhythm, slowing down when the fire is about to consume me and speeding up again as lust fades away. It's a back and forth until the burning need for a release takes over. I explode in his mouth. Breathing heavy, I ride out the aftershocks, not letting go of his hair until I'm fully drained.
🌶️🌶️
Anton squeezes my ass. "I'll be waiting for you in bed."
Pulling a hotel bathrobe off the hanger, he disappears, allowing me my space. I take my time drying off. Anticipation is something I savor, and he needs to learn to be patient. As I'm toweling my hair, my phone pings with a message. It's from Falk.
Just got an alert. Murphy is dead.
So Chelsea did sell him out.
Closing my eyes, I sort through my thoughts. My fingers tremble as I reply.
How?
Initial report says heart attack. Dropped dead at hotel bar.
Injecting untraceable poison or spiking a drink to make a death look like natural causes is Penina Cohn's specialty. Since Jackson Pierce no longer operates on US soil, he sent his pet to do his bidding.
Check surveillance footage for foul play.
Falk responds with an okay emoji.
"Bastian, are you coming to bed or what?" Anton's low growl vents his annoyance.
Stepping into the room, I thumb-type one final message to Falk. Want 24/7 location on Chelsea Doherty and tap her phone.
Another okay emoji.
I drop the cell on the nightstand and grin at Anton. Stretched out naked on the bed, he gazes at me with a pout. His pupils are dilated with raw lust.
"Alrighty. Where did we leave off . . .?"
WP total word count: 26,676
So Bastian turns back to Anton in his time of need, and of course Anton is eager to take him back. Were you shocked or did you expect it? And how will Chelsea stay in the loop with her now being fully on the sideline?
Hope you enjoyed this chapter, if so, please consider and vote and/or drop me a comment. Thanks for reading!