His Beauty Read online

  She nodded.

  “Congratulations on becoming parents.”

  Damon got up and handed the doctor his fee. He always paid extra for the man to come out to his office.

  “I’ll see you in a couple of weeks.”

  They were alone, and he moved toward the sofa.

  The moment he sat down, Meghan curled up against his side.

  “We’re going to be parents.”

  This, right here, was why he couldn’t be without her. She was always near him, always seeking his comfort.

  “I will love and take care of you for the rest of our lives, Meghan.”

  She tilted her head back, smiling at him. “It’s kind of the best Christmas present ever.”

  He cupped the back of her head, taking the kiss he wanted.

  “I don’t suppose you want a Vegas wedding?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “Not a chance. I don’t want anything big though. Just something small. For us and your friends.”

  “They’re your friends too.”

  She rested her head on his chest. He ran his fingers through her hair, and she traced a finger across his leg. “You’re going to kill him, aren’t you?”

  “I’m not going to tell you what I do down there.” He’d protect her from this world.

  She looked up at him. “What are you going to do with Rose?”

  “Again, she’s not going to hurt you. I’ll make sure of it.”

  “You do love me?”

  “With all my heart and soul.” He placed her hand over his chest. “You feel this. You make me feel alive. I thought I was dead inside. Going through the motions and then I met you and I couldn’t look away. Even if I didn’t take you that night, Meghan, I knew I was going to have you. You belonged to me.” He tucked some hair behind her ear. “And I promise you now, I will take care of you and our baby, for the rest of our lives. I will love you, take care of you, and fuck you.”

  She chuckled. “It was romantic ’til that last part.”

  “I know you, Meghan. I know what you crave, and I’ll give you it all. Everything your heart desires, all you have to do is say the word.”

  “I love you, Damon.” She rested her head against his chest. “Just hold me. Please.”

  “Always.”

  ****

  A couple of days later

  Meghan’s face was finally starting to heal, but the bruises were still very much there. Each time Damon stared at her face, he was reminded of what her sister had done. It hadn’t taken much to get the truth out of the man. Rose hadn’t even paid him for the pleasure of hurting her sister. She’d given him full use of her body for one night, and in return, he’d go and hurt her sister. Maybe even break the other leg.

  Damon was sickened by her cruelty. Not only that, they had discovered that to find out where Meghan was, Rose’s goon had gone to Alex. Much to his disgust and Meghan’s pain, Alex had been beaten to a bloody pulp. He’d not made it, and Meghan had blamed herself. He wouldn’t let her do that. Meghan had nothing to do with Alex’s death. Her sister did, and he’d be the one to make her pay.

  He wanted nothing to do with a woman that was so fucking spiteful she’d do anything to stop her sister’s happiness and kill an innocent young kid. That was all Alex had been, an innocent young kid.

  Damon wouldn’t allow her to even touch her sister again.

  Entering the warehouse where he’d gotten Rex and Dan to chain her up, he turned on the light, and there Rose stood.

  “You piece of fucking shit,” Rose said, glaring at him. “What is the meaning of this? I’m a hard worker. I suck cock for ten bucks now and still earn more.”

  Rex and Dan were behind him.

  Taking a chair, he dragged it across the floor and took a seat. She tried to fight against the chains.

  “You sent a man to hurt my woman.”

  “How is my baby sister, huh? Still fucking living? Still got everything her heart desires?”

  “You hate her so much.”

  “Please, she’s nothing to me.”

  “Yet, she’s organizing our wedding,” Damon said. He pulled out his cell phone and held it up. It was a picture of Meghan laughing. He’d taken it as they were looking through wedding magazines. Neither of them had a clue what they were doing.

  He saw the jealousy in her eyes.

  “She’s also pregnant with my child.” Damon smiled. “You know, I’d seen your sister entering and leaving your building several times. I figured I’d find out who she was after I dealt with you. That night I walked into your apartment, I had no idea she was your sister.” He had seen Meghan coming and going. She’d always looked like the weight of the world was on her shoulders. He’d not approached her because he had to deal with business first. If only he’d known the business was going to lead to amazing pleasure, he’d have gone to Rose long before he did. “Don’t you worry about your sister though. She is going to live like a queen.”

  “You better make sure she’s guarded.” Rose smiled. “You never know what accidents pregnant bitches can have.”

  He stared at her.

  “You see, Rose, you’re under the impression I’m a good man. I am a good man. To your sister. To men and women that deserve my … kindness. My mercy.”

  The smile fell from Rose’s lips. “You won’t punish me. My sister won’t let you.”

  “I don’t see her here, do you? I don’t see Meghan anywhere. She’s pregnant, guarding my child, and she knows you sent that man to hurt her and you made sure Alex was killed. She could have lost the baby, and she did lose Alex. She knows I’m going to deal with you. Take care of the problem. She knows not to ask me how I’m going to deal with you. I doubt she even cares, knowing you’re the one responsible for Alex’s death.”

  He watched the fear fill her face. The cocky bitch was disappearing before his very eyes.

  “Please. She’s … lying. She’s horrible. She calls me up all the time gloating about how you want her and that you’re eating out of the palm of her hand.”

  She kept going on about how cruel Meghan was. How she’d suffered all her life because of her sister.

  He waited and shook his head. “Take a look in the mirror, Rose. You won’t like what you see.”

  Taking his gun out of its holster, he let her see it.

  She once again started begging for her life, telling him to have mercy.

  Firing off two rounds, he sent one bullet into her heart and the other into her head. No one would ever come after his family and get away with it. Meghan belonged to him. She was his family.

  “Clean up the trash, boys.”

  Epilogue

  Five years later

  “You can’t do this,” Meghan said, laughing.

  Damon landed another blow to her ass, making her yelp. “Damn, I love this ass. I’ve missed this ass.”

  He dropped her onto the bed, and as she made to run off, he grabbed her around the waist, pinning her down with his body. “Happy Anniversary, baby,” he said.

  She attacked his shirt, getting him naked. The moment she had his shirt off, she paused when she caught sight of her name across his heart. Tracing her fingers over the name, she smiled as she removed her own shirt, and turned for him to see his name along the small of her back. What had started out as a bet had turned into something far more intense.

  He wanted his name on her body, and after she’d played a game of cards and lost terribly, Damon had asked for his name to be printed right there. She was more than willing to have it on her chest, but this was their own personal intimacy to each other. He owned her just as she owned him.

  “Fuck, I never get tired of seeing that.” His hand moved down her back to cup her ass. Within a matter of seconds, he had her skirt down to the floor, her legs spread, and his cock pressed against her pussy. Within one thrust they were both moaning. “Oh, yeah, you’re so tight. Rex needs to take our kids more often.”

  She giggled. “Just so we can fuck?”

&n
bsp; “When did you get so naughty?” he asked, giving a slap to her ass.

  “I had the best teacher.”

  He pulled out of her only to slam back inside. “Five years you’ve belonged to me. Five years of fucking this pussy, taking your mouth and ass, and I’m still not done.”

  “Don’t forget, three kids.”

  “Three kids, four dogs, two cats, six bunnies, and how the fuck did I end up with a pig?” he asked.

  She burst out laughing, which turned into a moan as he started to finger her pussy. “You couldn’t say no.”

  “Only for you. Only for our kids. Come for me, Meghan. Let me feel how wet you get.”

  He pinched her clit before stroking her with his fingers. She couldn’t fight her arousal for him for another moment. She came hard, screaming his name. Damon joined her within seconds, his cock pumping his release deep inside her.

  They moved up the bed together so that his cock stayed within her. Damon wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. “I love you, Meghan.”

  “I love you too. We didn’t last long,” she said with a chuckle.

  “Give me a few minutes, we’ll go again.”

  She snuggled against him. It had been a long while since they had any alone time together. She couldn’t remember when they last had their home to themselves. Rex had been so sweet to take the kids. She was sure Damon had a hand in that.

  Closing her eyes, she felt so relaxed, so happy. The past five years had gone by in a blur, and she couldn’t be happier.

  Just as sleep was about to claim her, she heard Damon’s telltale snore, and she joined him. They had the rest of their lives for fun and games.

  The End

  www.samcrescent.com

  Other Books by Sam Crescent:

  www.evernightpublishing.com/sam-crescent

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  Digger by Lynn Burke

  Taken by the Kingpin by Winter Sloan

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  BONUS SAMPLE CHAPTER

  EL DIABLO

  Killer of Kings, 6

  Sam Crescent and Stacey Espino

  Copyright © 2018

  Chapter One

  Xavier slid the patio door closed behind him, careful not to make a sound. The rich scent of coffee wafted in the air. Most people loved the smell. He fucking hated it. He pushed away childhood memories of picking coffee beans in his bare feet for twelve grueling hours a day. Right now, he needed to stay focused.

  He was there to kill a man.

  The oceanfront paradise belonged to a dirty trader. He’d pissed off the wrong people, spreading rumors and creating false market values. The men who’d lost millions because of him had hired Killer of Kings for some swift justice.

  Xavier had been working for the notorious group of hitmen for over ten months now. He’d done his training with Chains and Killian, and he’d been fulfilling contracts for a few months. The work paid well, so he couldn’t complain.

  Lazy footsteps shuffled down the hallway. He twisted a silencer onto the end of his Glock, not liking the leather gloves Boss insisted he wear. Mr. Strogonov wasn’t expecting him this morning. Nobody wanted a visit from El Diablo.

  He watched as the man lifted the carafe from the coffeemaker and poured himself a drink. He wore a plush navy bathrobe and matching slippers, humming a carefree tune as he puttered around the kitchen. Strogonov was forty-three, only a few years older than Xavier himself. The bastard had some city miles, probably from the stress of ripping off his associates. When he turned around and noticed Xavier sitting at his dining table, he dropped the mug, the ceramic pieces scattering on the marble floor.

  “Who are you?” His voice trembled, his lower lip quivering.

  “Who do you think I am?”

  The man looked from side to side, then reached for his neck.

  “Your personal alert won’t work. I’ve already deactivated it. You didn’t think they’d hire an amateur, did you?”

  “W-who hired you?”

  Xavier smirked. “You have more than one enemy? You’ve been busy.” He waved an arm in the air. “Stealing certainly pays well, doesn’t it?”

  “I never stole anything.”

  He set his gun on the glass tabletop with care, then stood up, slowly pushing the chair back into place. He rolled out his shoulders. “You’re far from innocent, Mr. Strogonov.”

  “I can pay you. Whatever they’re giving you, I’ll do better. Name your price.”

  There was no reason for him to talk to this guy. Strogonov could beg and cry and offer him the world. It wouldn’t do any good once Killer of Kings was contracted. This was more than money; it was about reputation, respect, and getting the job done. He’d spent a lot of time with Boss and his men over the past year, and for the first time in his life, he felt connected. Being on top, ruling with an iron fist in some of the most ruthless gangs and cartels never fulfilled him. It only added to the loneliness, the disconnect he’d always felt. Chains and the other players at Killer of Kings were his equals, and the level playing field was surprisingly satisfying.

  “I need you to write a confession letter. Go on, grab a paper and pen. I’ll wait.”

  “What for?”

  He took a deep breath and exhaled. “Don’t make me ask you twice.”

  The man scrambled around the kitchen, opening and closing drawers. Sweat beaded on his forehead, highlighting his receding hairline.

  “The top drawer beside the sink,” he said. “And bring a glass of water back with you.” Xavier had already scoped out this place, and taken all the steps to ensure the contract went smooth and clean. He had something to prove to Boss. Once the man had the pad, pen, and water, he continued, “Now, you’re going to apologize and spell out exactly what you did to alter the market.”

  Once he had the suicide note, he could finish this hit. His gun was only a precaution.

  “I can’t do that. They’ll lock me away for the rest of my life.”

  He shook his head. Jail was the last thing this bastard should be worried about. “Do you know what they called me back in Colombia?” Xavier massaged one of the man’s shoulders, making him flinch. “El Diablo. If you don’t know, that means The Devil. Some said I was a sociopath, that I lacked empathy. Others were more blunt, calling me a monster. Maybe they were right. But monsters aren’t born—they’re made.” He could have gone on, talking about his bullshit childhood, being sold to the barrio gang to pay a debt his mother owed. About the little sister torn from his arms. Sometimes he unloaded it all, knowing whoever he told was about to meet their maker. It was his therapy, a confession of his sins. He shoved Strogonov down into a chair. The man whimpered. “You don’t want to piss me off.” The trip down memory lane plus a wicked case of blue balls had put him in a less than stellar mood.

  Once everything had been written out, Xavier neatly folded the paper and tucked it into the breast pocket of Mr. Strogonov’s robe. “Very good,” he said. “Now take these with the water.” He set two pills on the table beside the glass.

  “What are they?”

  “Don’t worry about it. Take the damn pills.” He picked up his gun to punctuate this sentence.

  Within minutes of swallowing the lethal drugs, Strogonov slumped over the glass table, the water spilling.

  Drip, drip, drip off the edge onto the marble floors.

  This job was too easy. Xavier liked to use his gun or knives, something challenging where he could let off steam. But Boss wanted a textbook suicide, so he delivered.

  He walked to the kitchen window. The view above the sink was breathtaking, clouds tinted with pink and orange reflected on the ocean’s surface. It was way too fucking early to be awake.

  Xavier tucked his Glock into his shoulder harness and left the way he came. Strogonov had an ex-wife and no children. Even if he’d had a family, it wouldn’t have changed the outcome. Xavier was fucked up in the head, always had been. He never felt guilt or regret when kill
ing. Maybe he was numb to the bloodshed … or he really was a monster.

  Once he got to his car, settling back against the soft leather, he called Boss.

  “Job’s done.”

  “You’re on a roll,” said Boss. “I have another contract for tomorrow. You’ll love this one.”

  He scrubbed his hand over the stubble on his jaw. “Oh?”

  “You’ll have to get your hands dirty. I’ll email you the details.” The line went dead.

  Boss never was one for small talk. If you did your job well, you got more work, and he left you alone. If you fucked up, he’d ride your ass. He demanded perfection and rarely gave second chances. The man had a reputation for a reason.

  The only reason Xavier started this job was in exchange for information about his sister. Boss had given him a few leads, but nothing that panned out. He kept promising more, but after a year of waiting, Xavier was starting to wonder.

  The highway drive was usually a bumper to bumper nightmare, but this early in the morning, it was relatively clear. He hit the gas and headed home. Over the past few months, he’d made more money than most men earned in a lifetime. Hitmen with good track records made a very lucrative living. But chasing the almighty dollar was a road leading to nowhere. He knew that well, but it didn’t stop him either. He had nothing to lose.

  Forty minutes later, he drove along his winding driveway. His home was a modern marvel, set on a vast acreage. He valued his privacy and security. By now he knew money couldn’t buy happiness, but he always had something to prove. As if owning the best was the measure of a man, or could erase the memories of living in the slums of District 4 of Soacha.