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“She kicked me. Am I hurting her?”
I shook my head. “No, we’re perfect.” I dug my heel into his backside. “Don’t stop. Willow likes the sound of our voices.”
His lips brushed mine as they curled up into a smile. “Then I guess I better give you something to scream about.”
The Aftermath
The day Drake is taken…
Sonny
Ella fucking Doyle.
My jaw dropped as I looked at the beautiful woman curled into a ball on the floor of a Mac Corp shipping container. She lifted her head to look at me, mascara streaking down her cheeks, knees bent into her chest.
I entered the container, expecting to see cartons of AK-47s—not the daughter of my uncle’s enemy. Cian Doyle was one of several Irish Mob bosses from Beacon Bay. My mother was born an O’Shea and the only sibling of Declan O’Shea.
But Cian Doyle—Ellas’s father—was more powerful than my uncle, with strong ties to criminal organizations that ran guns and drugs. She was also the girl I shared with Aiden Wellington before she ran off.
No one knew about her.
We couldn’t tell a soul we dipped our dicks in the Irish Princess. It would jeopardize all of The Devil’s Knights’ deals with my uncle. So when she left town, we were both relieved. But I couldn’t shake how the two of them felt… or that I wanted to do it again.
I hunched in front of her, sliding my fingers beneath her chin, grinning like a maniac. “Miss me, El?”
She wrapped her arms around her middle and sat back, so my hand slipped away. “What do you want, Sonny?”
I shook my head and laughed. “Really? That’s the first question you ask me. How about we start with why you’re in my fucking shipping container when there’s supposed to be AK-47s?”
“What?” Ella choked out. “I don’t fucking know. I didn’t throw myself in here.”
“Your pussy is tight, and I love fucking you, but it’s not worth thirty million dollars.” I pressed my forehead against hers, and her body trembled. “So where are my fucking guns? And don’t play games with me. I know your piece of shit father put you up to this.”
“He didn’t,” she whispered, a tear streaming down her cheek. “And I didn’t lock myself in here.”
“Then tell me who did.”
She looked away. “I don’t know.”
Before I could question her, my cell phone rang. I reached into my pocket and rose to my full height, holding the phone to my ear. “What’s up, Cole?”
“Sonny,” he shouted, breathing so hard it sounded like he’d run a hundred miles. “Drake… He’s gone.”
A chill spread down my arms and back. “What do you mean he’s gone?”
“They fucking took him!” Cole sounded frantic, barely able to catch his breath. “Drake initiated Battle King protocol. It put all of his homes and offices on lockdown. He told me if he ever had to activate it, he was probably dead or would be soon.”
Cole and Drake were cousins on their mother’s side of the family. And now that Cole was working at Battle Industries, he had insider knowledge we would need to find Drake.
“Motherfuckers!” I rushed out of the container, slamming the door behind me. “I just found the daughter of Cian Doyle in one of my shipping containers. It’s pretty fucking convenient timing, don’t you think?”
“Fuck,” he groaned. “Are you kidding me?”
“Nope. And the AK-47s I’m supposed to hand over to my uncle Declan are gone. I got her instead.”
“Jesus.” He blew air into the receiver. “Look, we’ll deal with the girl and the guns later. We have to find Drake before The Lucaya Group kills him and Tate.”
Tate Maxwell was Drake’s head of security and best friend. If they got Tate, they were fucked until we found them. But would we find them alive? A knife twisted in my gut at the thought.
