Conall walked halfway down the beach and stared out at the water. The ocean sloshed against the shore, the waves sporting white caps crashing against it angrily. It was loud, but also calming, as though it were his anger that washed back out to sea with the retreating water. The seagulls squalled, one close enough to startle him, and he glanced up at the sky toward the bird that flapped its wings not too far away from him. It hovered, as though waiting for Conall to throw it some food.
“How private is this beach?” He slipped his arms into the jacket and snuggled into it, ignore the strong smell of Killough and his aftershave clinging to the material. He certainly wasn’t going to bring it to his nose and smell it.
“Private. Only the houses along the shoreline can access it.” He pointed to the hill the sand led up to, and the mansions that lined the beach with towering beauty. It was poignant to see the difference between the beach and the houses; natural beauty and manmade beauty, different in so many ways, yet they complemented each other, too.
“How many people do you see down here?” Conall stepped closer to the water until the creeping waves met his feet. The water was ice cold and a shudder shot down his spine.
“I don’t know, pet. I don’t come down here.”
“You were serious when you said that?” He turned wide eyes on Killough. “You have a gorgeous beach at your disposal, and you don’t visit it?”
“I don’t have time. I’m a busy man.”
“What about your other pets? Did they come down here?”
Killough smirked. “They preferred to please me. One had an affinity to sucking my cock under my desk while I did work.” He stepped closer until their chests were nearly touching and stroked a thumb over Conall’s cheekbone. “Would you do that for me, pet?”
Conall’s lips twisted, a prickling of annoyance stinging in his gut. “You mention your former pets a lot.”
“Does that anger you?” His dark eyebrows rose. “All you have to do is tell me.”
He snorted and shoved at Killough’s chest. A quick movement over the mob boss’s shoulder caught his eye—one of the guards was standing on the hill, clearly keeping an eye on them. Did he think Conall was going to hurt Killough, or were there other threats he was watching out for? Probably both. He wouldn’t be surprised if there were more guards hanging around, either.
“I don’t give a fuck about your former pets because I don’t give a fuck about you. I’m just here because my brother asked me to be.”
“Really?”
Conall wanted to punch the smug smile off his handsome face.
“Why would your brother ask you to be my pet? What does he have to hide?”
The question left him floundering. Shit. There was nothing to hide, because Killough already knew about their dismal profits, yet he realized how suspicious it sounded. He needed to fix this quickly.
“Because you’re our boss and he worships you. Maybe he should be the one sucking your cock,” he muttered, turning away from him.
Arms slipped around his waist, dragging him closer until his back pressed against Killough’s chest. The heady scent of masculinity invaded his nose and made his skin prickle with goose bumps. Memories of the first couple of nights Killough fucked him teased his mind—the way Killough manhandled him, nearly bending him in two as his cock jackhammered into Conall’s hole. He’d fucked him that same way often since the first time. Conall shivered, his cock twitching in his pants.Fuck. He didn’t want to get hard right now.
Conall didn’t push away from Killough, though. He let him drag him nearer until they couldn’t get any closer. Killough’s hot breath fluttered against his ear, making his toes curl against the cool grains of sand beneath them.
“You smell so good,” Killough whispered, kissing the shell of his ear, before he moved to his cheek. “You’re so beautiful, pet. Perfect. Mine.”
Conall’s eyes slipped closed on their own accord and he turned in Killough’s arms. He opened them again to stare into the icy blue depths of Killough’s. It wasn’t natural for someone’s eyes to be that shade of blue, except for Killough, though, because of course he had the most beautiful eyes Conall had ever seen, even with the scar that ran over the left side of his face.
Conall touched the scar, tracing it from above Killough’s eye to his cheek with his index finger. “How did this happen?”
Killough cocked his head, obviously surprised by the question. “I was sixteen and the Italians grabbed me as revenge on my father. They tortured me.”
He swallowed around the thickness in his throat. “Do you have a lot of trouble with the Italians?”
Killough grabbed Conall’s hand, placing it on his chest with his own palm covering the back of Conall’s hand. “Not as much as we used to. My father went to war with them and came up with an agreement to stop the bloodshed.”
“Are they breaking the agreement by taking out your drugs and customs officers?”
“Yes, but right now we don’t know if Toscani is working for his father or on his own.”
“But you’re willing to go back to war over it?” Conall asked.
Killough brought Conall’s hand to his mouth, kissing the heel of his palm. His lips were cold from the cool wind. “If we let an obvious show of disrespect go, all of our enemies will think they can walk over us.”
