Nothing is out of place. Wait. The rug by the door has been moved. And there’s fucking mud on it. Fucking Atticus. When will he ever learn to take off his boots before entering the house? Finn is going to lose his shit when sees the mess. I ought to let him whoop Atticus’ ass, but I won’t. No, I’ve always been the peacekeeper ever since we found each other in that foster home and declared that we were brothers for life.
Gretel groans, making me glance up from my screen. Her hand is between her legs as she gets herself off. Judging by the way her head is bobbing to match the tempo on her clit, she’s close to coming. Guess I should get to her level. Dropping the phone on the table next to my chair, I pull her onto my lap. She impales herself on my cock and rides me hard and fast—the way both of us like it.
“Oli, I need more,” she moans right before she nips my earlobe.
Goosebumps rise on my skin, and I lift my hips to meet her thrusts. Sex with Gretel is always fun, and tonight is no exception. We fuck each other until we’re sweaty and close to breaking. My balls tighten, so I reach between her legs, rubbing her clit until she comes. Her orgasm sets off mine and I ride wave after wave of pleasure as her pussy clenches around my cock.
Gretel falls against my chest, planting a kiss near my collarbone.
“That wassogood, Oli.”
“Yeah, it was. What’s the rest of your night look like?”
She pulls her phone from her bra. If we hadn’t been fucking for years, I might feel bad that she didn’t get undressed all the way. But we both know why we’re here, and orgasms don’t require all your clothes to be off.
“Um, I have three lined up. Maurice is my last one, and he booked me for two sessions.”
Maurice Di Bello is second in command in the Di Bello Family. He’s been coming more and more, making me wonder what he’s running from. He’s an odd duck, to be sure, but he tips the girls well enough that they don’t mind his quirks.
“Is Luca coming in tonight?”
Luca is the Don of the Di Bello Family, and someone I consider a friend, if any of us can even have friends.
Gretel gives me a sly smile. “He’s apparently found a new toy.”
Ah. That explains quite a bit.
She goes on, “And he’s planning on getting her, despite Maurice’s protests. Maurice thinks he’s going too far with this one, whoever she is.”
“Let me know if he says anything worth noting.”
“Don’t I always?” She glances at my phone. “Speaking of new toys, who’s that?”
I follow her gaze and freeze. The security camera app is still open, but this time there is something on the screen. There, in my fucking kitchen in my fucking house is a woman, who’s currently bent over and in the process of cleaning the mud off the rug.
I tap Gretel’s hip. “Up.”
She gets off, reaching for a towel to clean herself. I don’t bother. Instead, I pull up my pants and grab my phone.
“Oliver? Is everything okay?”
“You were great, baby. I’ll make sure you have your money by the end of the night.”
She calls after me, “Oli—”
But I don’t stop. Instead, I send a text to my brothers to meet me at the front door ASAP. The woman has now moved from cleaning to standing in front of the fridge, looking through it. I don’t know who she is or why she’s in our house, but she’s about to learn a very important lesson. No one fucks with the Behr brothers and gets away with it.
2
Goldie
My fucking shoulder is on fire as I search the house, finding a bathroom on the first level. I manage to find some oral antibiotics in the medicine cabinet and a first aid kit. Taking off my shirt, I turn and glance over my shoulder. The bullet looks like it went straight through, which is good. But, god, does it hurt. And the pain only gets worse when I clean the wound.
Groaning, I do a haphazard job of patching myself up. Blood soaks the gauze, but it will have to do for now. I tie my ruined shirt around my waist before opening the bottle. Shoving two round pills in my mouth, I swallow. I learned a long time ago how to take medicine without water. Had to do it quick before my asshole of a father realized I was taking something for the pain. I frown. Why did he cross my mind? I haven’t wasted a thought on him in years. Not since I left that hellhole when I was thirteen.
Groaning, I use the dainty hand towel to wipe up the blood I dripped on the counter and floor. Whoever lives here must not have kids, because theses towels are pure white, and not a stain mars the cotton fabric. Well, that was the case until I got ahold of it, and that makes two towels I’ve ruined in this house tonight. Tossing the towels over my shoulder, I make my way back to the kitchen. I need to clean the floor, and then I’m going to see what goodies hide in the fridge. My stomach rumbles right before I yawn.
I cringe when I look around the kitchen. God, there’s mud everywhere. Wetting one of the already ruined towels, I get to work. I rinse the towel out at least four times before I make any progress. By the time I get it cleaned, my shoulder throbs and I feel lightheaded. Maybe bending over wasn’t the best idea. Tossing the towel in the sink, I move to the fridge. Maybe I just need something to eat.