Vengeance Duet: Truth Part 32

"You want to do something for her? Give her time," I put in, still trying to convince my friend to let this go. "It took a f.u.c.k of a lot for her to realize Viktor keeping her was f.u.c.ked. She thinks he's half-hero. You don't really know her."

"I know her enough. Those f.u.c.kin' eyes, Max. In the time I had with her at Creed and then after I got her out, they told her story better than any words could. She's not scared and broken, even after all she's gone through with that sick f.u.c.k."

"You're not giving her a chance to be who she should be," I observe with care.

"This isn't me out cruisin' and lookin' for a woman, a.s.shole," he returns, correcting half my a.s.sumption. "I've just seen some s.h.i.t, and after a while, it's good to be able to witness a happy ending, you know?"

Sitting back in my chair, I cross my arms over my chest-not in annoyance, but in certainty. "She'll have hers."

Standing up, he looks down at me and smirks. I don't like the looks of it at all.

"Get your a.s.s out of trouble with the Feds yet?" I ask as a reminder, knowing he's still buried in paperwork, even after all this time. Aimes needs to chill the f.u.c.k out.

With someone on the inside, it was also concluded that Aimes was used without his knowledge to help those women and burn down that operation. When he was informed that he wasn't the only one who played hero, he was annoyed.

"Did you know there was more than one of those b.i.t.c.hes in there?" he asks, his voice terse.

"Yeah, I'd heard, but still haven't figured out who the other one was. Do you know?"

Shaking his head, he runs his fingers through his hair. "f.u.c.k it all," he tells me. "It's done. I've got s.h.i.t to do."

"More s.h.i.t needs blowin' up, I'm sure," I flip back, and he smiles wide.

Leaning against the rail of my deck, he explains, "Low's trying to talk me into a f.u.c.kin' vacation."

"You two should take one," I answer back. "If anyone needs a break, it's you."

"This is my break," he replies, stretching his arms out onto my porch. "Besides, if I'm taking a vacation, it won't be with that a.s.shat."

"Right."

As he slaps my shoulder and starts to turn away, I can't help but smile. "See you around?"

"I'll be in and out," he replies as he starts to walk off the porch.

Typical.

"Tell Low I said hi and I'll see him soon."

With his back to me, Aimes lifts his hand above his head with a middle finger to the sky. "You tell him; he's not talking to me anymore."

Can't imagine why he's not.

Chapter Forty-Three.

"Wider," I demand, standing in front of Em as she spreads her legs. She's breathing heavily and her face is flushed. "Tell me how much you want my c.o.c.k, Em."

I'm still fully dressed, but she's not. She's on her back, naked and spread out, just as I told her to be when I gave her the three-minute head-start upstairs after Casey left.

When I came inside from talking to Aimes and told the girls he and Low were doing fine after everything that happened, Casey smiled with relief. She knew the part he played in getting her out; she'd witnessed it firsthand. Emma had been on constant worry about our friends getting into trouble for everything they had done.

She's more than appreciative of what Aimes and Low did for Casey. She wants to see them settled and happy. I just happen to be the one reaping the benefits of her well wishes.

"When's Casey coming home?" she asks, holding her ankles as she spreads her legs further, giving me a glistening view of what I'm still deciding if I want to taste or f.u.c.k.

"Hours. Mom's got her out shopping for school clothes."

Taking her eyes off me, Emma raises her head to the ceiling before I hear the relief in her whispered, "Thank G.o.d."

We haven't had a lot of time together over the last few weeks. We've been preoccupied with getting Casey settled in, and with that comes my parents. They've been in and out of our house so much I'm starting to wonder why we bought one so close to theirs.

"Touch yourself," I demand again. "Do it slow and stop yourself before you come."

Positioning her head toward me, Em finds my eyes and I note hers are burning. Without making a sound, her mouth draws opens once her finger makes contact with her c.l.i.t.

"Ready for me yet?"

She doesn't answer, and I don't like that she's enjoying her own touch more than she's wanting mine.

"You wet?" I ask, feeling my c.o.c.k strain in my jeans as I watch her slip a finger into her p.u.s.s.y. "Tight?"

She still doesn't answer, but the vein in her neck protrudes as her back arches off the bed. She's about to let go and I'm still four f.u.c.king feet away.

Moving toward her with quick steps, I unbuckle my belt and unsnap my jeans on the way. She continues touching herself with her eyes closed, and the power she has over my state of arousal isn't a bit f.u.c.king lost on me. I've not even touched her and I'm about to blow.

Grabbing her wrist, pulling it away, and shifting her body to the end of the bed, I whisper, "You come for me, Em."

As I slide myself into her, I feel her insides clench around me. Her moan at my invasion only fuels my self-induced, delayed gratification.

"t.i.ts, Em. Use your hands."

In the broad daylight of our bedroom, I watch as Em rolls her fingers around her hardened nipples. She pulls them roughly and gasps another breath.

I'm already close. "When you're ready, baby."

Her hands drop from her chest, then her head moves in my direction and our eyes lock. As she grabs my wrists, still holding her hips place, her chest moves with each thrust. I feel her fingernails score my skin before she lets go in a series of curses and moans.

Not long after, I follow and release mine. The pleasure of watching her was almost as good as being inside her.

"You've got to stop touching me," she hopelessly claims as we're sitting around the dining room table an hour after we've showered.

Stopping mid-air as I lift my beer to my mouth, I remind her, "I didn't touch you, sweetheart. I didn't have to do s.h.i.t. You did all of that on your own."

Smiling and taking a drink of her wine, she informs, "Not with your hands, Max." Leaning in, she kisses me sweetly and I taste the last drink she took. "Your eyes touch me as much as your hands do."

"Noted," I reply.

"Every time you look at me like that..." She stops, takes a breath, and swallows. I watch her long, slender throat move as she does and I picture her lying beneath me again.

Christ.

"Drink your wine, Emilyn. Casey will be home soon," I tell her before standing.

She watches me walk toward the kitchen but no sooner do I hit the door of it then the doorbell rings.

"Max?" Em asks, looking out through the window at the same person I see waiting patiently on the other side of it. "Who the h.e.l.l is that?" She pauses then asks, "Isn't that the man Casey drew?"

The large man with dark hair and eyes, dressed in a nice shirt and looking all business, peers back at us from outside the door.

"Cilas," I say on a breath before walking toward him.

As I pa.s.s Em, her hand reaches out and grabs my wrist tightly. "You're going to talk to him?"

"Well, yeah, I wasn't gonna let him stand outside."

"What if he's here for Casey?"

Her words give me pause. Em and Casey both still have residual fears of being torn apart. We're a family now, and the thought of one being taken away from the other still shakes us all to the core.

Lifting my hand and running my finger over her jaw, I give her a moment to regroup. "That can't happen. We have her now. For good. Remember?"

"Okay," she answers, but it's weak and hesitant.

Once I open the door, Cilas straightens and looks me square in the eye. His large arm darts out and grabs me at the shoulder as he brings me in for a side-arm hug.

"What the f.u.c.k?" I ask, pulling back and taking him in.

His hair's been cut-as in clean-cut, completely gone cut. He's dressed in suit trousers, and he looks-for lack of better terms-normal and clean. He blends in.

"Wondered how long it was going to take you to answer the f.u.c.kin' door," he says.

Cilas having a voice doesn't surprise me. I knew he could talk. I was told his dirty role in Creed was a mute for a reason; however, I have a thousand unanswered questions still racing through my mind regarding his position within that f.u.c.ked-up organization.

"Come in," I tell him, stepping to the side once he releases me and allowing him to enter.

His eyes lock with Em's and her face falls with concern.

"This is Emilyn?" He points with this question to where she's sitting, but he isn't talking to her-he's asking me.

"It is," I confirm. "Em, this is Cilas."

A small wave of her hand is all she can offer. Visibly, she's in shock at his arrival.

"Can we talk?" he asks before his gaze moves to me. "Outside?"

Em nods to me, stands, and moves to the direction of the kitchen, giving me her unsaid approval to go with him.

Once we've made our way out, I pull out a chair for me. "Have a seat," I tell him, pointing to the iron chair on the other side of the table. "Can I get you anything to drink?"

Raising a hand and looking into the street, he says, "No, I'm good. I don't have but a few minutes before I'm headed out."

"Long time, no see," I state. "Long time, no talk," I correct right after. "So f.u.c.ked I never knew you had a voice, by the way."

Cilas smiles and brings his eyes to mine. In them, I find the same trust I felt while unknowingly working with him on the inside.

"You don't seem too surprised I have a tongue," he observes.

"Bill Reams told me all you did for me," I explain then wait to see my voiced thought register. "My lawyer told me you vouched for me and what I was doing in that s.h.i.t hole. Thank you for that."

"You're an idiot," he starts with a smile. His face gets serious before he explains further. "I did it for Casey. When my unit told me your connection to her, I did what I could to help you."

"I have a lot of questions," I inform him, and he doesn't look surprised.

"I don't know if I've got all the answers, and I'll share only what I can."

"How'd you end up at Creed?" I ask first.

Looking back to the front door, I note he's ensuring we're alone and take it as I'm not to discuss this openly with Em. He doesn't have to tell me this, as it had already been a.s.sumed.

"That woman of yours," he says while holding back a smirk. "Jesus Christ, she's determined. She started all this s.h.i.t when she marched her p.i.s.sed-off a.s.s into the cop shop downtown over a year ago. Seems James Fuller decided on his own that her complaints were ridiculous."

"f.u.c.ker," I mutter and am rewarded with a chastising grin. Cilas gets it.

"Yeah, well, there were those who were more than willing to listen to what she had to say. Creed was already on their s.h.i.t list for a few things in town, so Em's constant complaining only propelled it. The department contacted higher authorities and in doing so, the file landed on my desk."

"Imagine that," I comment. "Guys like you probably get s.h.i.t jobs like Creed all the time."

Nodding in agreement, he replies, "I know I most certainly do, and I prefer it that way. Bringing those types of people down is why I love my job. It wasn't hard to infiltrate Creed either, as you already know."

"I knew Hoss before Creed had taken the wrong path. I had an easy time getting in."

"I didn't," he states. "But that's not important."

"How long had you been there before I got in? Hoss only told me how you did. He mentioned you kicked the f.u.c.k outta his boys."

"G.o.d, that felt good," he comments. "Easiest play I ever had was gettin' into that place. I'd only been there eight months before you showed."

"And why go in as a mute?" I ask him, smiling and still not used to him having a voice.

He sits up off the back of the chair and puts his elbows to his knees with a half-smile. "f.u.c.k them, that's why. It was easier for me not to have to converse when my focus was Casey. Anna ended up being able to talk to me, though. She never said it, but I'd swear she knew."