Ronan tilted his head forward again. “Yes, sir, I remember. You were the kid who always ended up with detention.”
Conall laughed. It felt good. “Yeah, that was me.”
“Mr. Louis hated you.”
“Oh man, he did. I swear he threw a party after I graduated.”
Ronan pressed his lips together and nodded. “I wouldn’t be surprised, sir.”
“Call me Conall.”
Killough chose that moment to interrupt their conversation. “Absolutely not. You will always besirto my soldiers and acquaintances. You are above them now, pet, and I don’t care if you knew them back in high school.” He glanced at Ronan, who had looked out the window again, his alert stare once more in place.
“I know him, though,” Conall argued.
“I don’t care.” Killough grabbed him around the waist, hauling him onto his lap as though he weighed nothing. Conall’s knees pressed into the leather seat on either side of Killough’s thighs, and Killough’s thumb stroked up his cheekbone again. “You’re mine, pet. Never forget that.”
“How can I?” he grumbled.
Killough’s gaze turned heated and he tugged Conall closer until they were chest to chest. “Do I need to fuck you right here to show Ronan who you belong to?” he whispered darkly.
Conall swallowed and shook his head furiously. “No, sir.”
“Good boy. You will not talk to anyone unless I give you permission to. I will let this one go because you know him, but do not let it happen again. You may ask me if you can speak to someone.”
Something akin to jealousy flashed in Killough’s eyes, and a spark of excitement at the prospect sparked in Conall’s groin. “Yes, sir.”
“Good.” Killough carded his fingers through Conall’s hair, pausing to tug roughly on some of the longer strands. He hauled Conall into a rough kiss, his lips making their mark against Conall’s. Everything about it screamed possession, from the hard bite on his lower lip to Killough’s tongue swiping against the roof of his mouth. By the time he was done claiming him, Conall’s cheeks were flushed and his cock was on the rise.
Fuck.
“You’re such a good boy,” Killough purred. “My good pet.”
Conall shoved away from him and fell into his own seat again, earning a laugh from Killough. Ronan never tore his stare away from the window, but at some point Fionn had filled his glass higher, and he rolled his eyes, taking bigger gulps of the alcohol. Conall didn’t really blame him. If he had an uncle, he wouldn’t want to see that, either.
The limo turned and soon came to a stop. The door opened on Killough’s side and Killough stepped out first. He buttoned up his charcoal suit then held out his hand to Conall, as though he was some princess. It made the anger simmer in his veins, and Conall ignored him, ducking out of the limo without taking the offered hand.
Killough pressed his lips tightly together, and Conall had a feeling he’d pay for that later. Four or five of Killough’s guards were already waiting for them.
They stood near a pier, a bunch of cop cruisers and unmarked cars parked near the edge of it. Large cargo ships were sitting against each of the boardwalks, and it went on for miles, with containers stacked up high on every part of the port.
“Follow me,” Killough ordered, and Conall didn’t ignore him this time. He followed behind Killough like a good pet as the mob boss strode toward the police cars. He didn’t make it far before a cop stopped him, holding up his hand.
The cop glared at him. “Why are you here, Killough?”
“I was curious.” Killough grinned, wicked and dark. “I’d heard there were two murders at the port.”
“Heard it through the gossips, did you? Or your men?” A mean-looking woman walked through the gathering of cars, heading toward them. She was, Conall imagined, an undercover cop, and definitely someone he thought would take a mob on—but there were some contradictions. She didn’t have her hair pulled into a tight bun like he would expect, but rather it hung in black waves around her face. Hispanic, probably, she was very pretty, with long eyelashes and a tight body covered in jeans, a T-shirt, and a black leather jacket, matching boots on her feet. “Hello, Sloan.”
Killough grinned and held out his hand. “Hello, Detective Diaz. I should have expected you would be here.”
“Expected? I believe you came here looking for me.” She slid her hand in his, her hold lingering a little longer than was necessary. Something hot like jealousy burned inside Conall and he had to push back the urge to slap her hand away. Finally, she took her hand back.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I heard there were two murders, and I was astonished.”
“Don’t you want to know who they were?” Detective Diaz raised dark eyebrows.
“Of course.”
