Brutal Vows (Queens & Monsters Book 4)

Boston, fifteen months later

Christmas Eve

Reyna stands at the head of the long oak table, silently surveying the seated group.

The lone woman in a crowd of dozens of the most powerful and dangerous men in the world, she looks as serene and genteel as one of the society ladies my mother’s favorite artist painted.

Her long dark hair is wound into a low chignon. Her red dress gently hugs her swollen belly. She rests one hand atop the precious bump that contains our growing child.

“Gentlemen,” she says, looking at each man in turn. “As you all know, the past year has been one of unprecedented success for our families. You’ve proven that working together to achieve our mutual goals is far more advantageous than being at odds with one another. I want to thank you for your cooperation with what some felt was an insane idea.”

She glances over at me, standing against the wall in the shadows. When our eyes meet, it feels the same as it has since the first day. As if I’ve been plugged into a socket.

She smiles. “Or at least misguided.”

I cross my arms over my chest and smile back, though mine is slightly sour.

I wasn’t the only one who told her that trying to work in cooperation with the international syndicates was a barking mad notion. But I am the only one who has to look into her eyes every night, knowing I was wrong.

Not that I should be surprised by that. I’ve learned that there are very few things my wife is ever wrong about.

And those I’m wise enough not to mention.

Reyna turns her attention back to the long wooden table. On the right side sit the heads of the international branches of the Armenian mafia, the Chinese Triad Society, the Chechen mafia, the Jalisco cartel, the Bratva, and others. On the left side are all the heads of the families within the States, including Declan and Kage. Their captains stand against the walls of the room, watching silently, eyes darting and tensions high.

Their leaders might be on board with the idea of a crime syndicate NATO, but some of their seconds-in-command are obviously not.

I’ve got my eye on one especially shady character. The dark-haired Albanian in black leather and combat boots across the room has beady little ferret eyes and twitching fingers. On top of having the energy of a junkie, he licks his lips every time he looks at Reyna.

I’d shoot him in the face right now, but I’ve learned over the past year or so to pick my battles more wisely.

I’ll shoot him in the face later when there aren’t any witnesses around.

See? I can be reasonable.

“In the flash drives on the table in front of you are my proposed plans for the forthcoming year. For obvious reasons, these drives are secured with a password. Each password is unique to its user, and can only be used once before the files are automatically erased. The files cannot be copied or saved, so please ensure you take your time reading through the material before you close out.”

Mirzoyan, head of the Armenian mafia, picks up the small black flash drive in his hand and frowns at it. “When do we get the passwords?”

“You already have them. For each user, the password is the full name of the first man you ever killed.” She smiles gently at the startled men. “You might have to do a little soul-searching if you can’t remember.”

Alvaro, head of the Jalisco cartel and uncle of Juan Pablo, asks, “How could you possibly have that information?”

“Let’s just say I have friends in low places and leave it at that.”

She means Killian, of course. Killian bloody Black, a man who knows everyone and everything and has an ego on him even bigger than mine. A man who “officially” died a long time ago, but is still prancing around the globe practicing espionage and trying to save humanity while looking like some teenage girl’s dirty fantasy.

Seeing the expression on my face, Malek smiles.

He’s working with Killian, too, the big Russian fucker. I keep my expression impassive, though I’d like to gouge out his eyes.

We still have Christmas Eve dinner at Declan’s to get through tonight.

“Moving on. The FBI is becoming a problem. Since the sudden death of the deputy director a year and a half ago, they’ve stepped up their internal efforts to apprehend and incarcerate members of organized crime. Their new director is particularly zealous. He’s working closely with Interpol and other international police organizations to tighten the noose.”

Kage says, “I’ll handle that.”

Declan shoots him a look. Seeing how he’s the one who killed the old deputy director, he probably wanted to have a go at the new one, too.

Reyna says, “Which reminds me, Kazimir. Your contact inside the FBI has been compromised.”

Kage’s dark eyes sharpen, but his voice doesn’t betray anything. Especially his surprise that she’s aware he has a contact inside the FBI.

“And you know this how?”

“Because I compromised him.” Without further explanation, she says to Declan, “Your contact Grayson can’t be trusted, either. It’s an entirely new game over there. The old rules no longer apply.”

Everyone looks at Declan.

It’s an important moment. I can tell by the sudden crackle of tension in the room, the way every man’s focus shifts to him. Of all the men present, Declan has always been among the most admired.

And no matter how capable and intelligent Reyna might be, organized crime is still very much a man’s world.

Except maybe it isn’t.

Because without hesitation, Declan says, “Understood. Appreciate the intel.”

His voice conveys respect, which is all it takes to have the men relaxing back into their seats.

I pass a hand over my face to hide my smile.

Goddamn, my woman is nothing short of astonishing.

All hail the Queen.

Reyna speaks about various business items for several more minutes, then takes her seat. A roundtable discussion ensues. Open measures are argued before the leadership. Votes are cast.

An hour later, they’ve wrapped up and are sharing a toast to each other’s health.

Reyna toasts with sparkling water. Though the doctor cleared her to have an occasional glass of wine, she won’t touch a drop until after the delivery.

And she accuses me of being overprotective. This baby might have a rabid wolf for a daddy, but I’m no match for the tiger mama who’ll rip to shreds anyone who even dares to breathe at Reagan the wrong way.

My wife wanted an Irish name for the baby. One that means “little king” just seemed to fit, even though we’re having a girl.

She’s due on Valentine’s Day.

I don’t want to jinx myself, but I think my bad luck has finally turned around.

“What’s that smile for?”

Reyna stands beside me, looking up into my face. Behind her, the room is emptying. I nod to Declan, then frown at the sight of Kage and Massimo sharing a word near the back door. They part, but not before that prick Massimo sends Reyna a withering glare.

Declan was right. Some lads still aren’t living in the twenty-first century.

But if I catch him looking at her like that again, he won’t be living at all.

“Just happy.” I kiss her on the forehead. “Where’s your coat?”

“On that chair.”

“I’ll get it.”

“I’m perfectly capable of walking over there and getting it myself.”

“And I’m perfectly capable of giving you a smack on that fine arse of yours if you don’t stop sassing me.”

She arches her brows and scoffs. “You’re not the boss of me.”

“No, you’re not the boss of me.”

After an amused pause, she goes up onto her toes, presses her breasts against my chest, and whispers into my ear, “I’m sorry, Maximus Aurelius Tiberius…what were you saying?”

I remember the scene we role played last night, and my dick stiffens. I absolutely love it when she blindfolds me, ties me to an immovable object, and playfully tortures me.

“That I’m an idiot,” I reply, my voice thick with desire.

Laughing softly, she kisses me on the cheek. “How I adore it when we agree.”

Encircling her waist with my hands, I say, “I was thinking that tonight Antonia might need to get tied up for a change.”

“Oh, really?” Reyna squeezes my biceps and blinks up at me coyly.

“Aye. Really.”

“Hmm. Let’s see how well you behave yourself at dinner, then we’ll talk.”

“That’s blackmail!”

“No, that’s incentive. And I don’t want poor Sloane having to mop up pools of blood from her dining room floor on Christmas Eve.”

I say, “We already had this talk, wife. Everyone has agreed to be on their best behavior.”

When she eyes me doubtfully, I add, “Like we were at Nat and Kage’s wedding. Remember that? Nobody got shot.”

“What I remember is a ballroom in Manhattan in February barely containing the collective rage of the Bratva and the Mob as they stared at each other across the dance floor like enemy cannibal tribes eager to dine on each other’s flesh.”

I shrug. “Aye. Gangster weddings aren’t exactly Sunday school.”

“You don’t say?”

“Also, that’s a disturbing visual. We don’t eat each other after we kill each other. We’re civilized men.”

“You’re about as civilized as cavemen can get, I’ll give you that much.”

“Thank you.”

Her mermaid eyes sparkle. Her scarlet lips curve up at the edges. “Was it really a compliment, though?”

I chuckle. “Let’s get in the car before we start arguing or we’ll be standing here all night.”

Taking her by the hand, I lead her across the room to the chair her heavy winter coat is draped over. I help her into it, then take her hand again as we walk outside to the car. Kieran waits for us in the parking lot with the SUV’s engine already running. Steam from the tailpipe billows white into the cold night air.

“How’d it go in there?” he asks as we pull off.

I say, “Nobody died.”

“Ach! Success, then. Good to hear it.”

Reyna says to him, “Are we picking up Aria on the way or is she meeting us there?”

“She’s already there. Sent me a pic of her and Sloane in the kitchen. All smiles. Real sweet. Sent a text right after askin’ if I could bring her some antacids.”

Reyna laughs. “I bet she did, the poor thing. Sloane must’ve made her sample some of the appetizers.”

“I’ll never know how such a lovely lass is such a bloody bad cook,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m never really sure if she’s tryin’ to feed me or if she’s havin’ a wee laugh at my expense, watchin’ me try to keep a straight face with a mouthful of rotten twigs.”

“I’m happy Aria flew in from New York to spend Christmas with you, even if she does have to eat rotten twigs.” Reyna turns to me. “Remind me again why we’re not having dinner at our house, Quinn?”

I say drily, “Because you’re renovating the kitchen, viper. Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten. It’s costing me a bloody arm and a leg.”

She made it a condition of us moving in together. We thought about building new, but decided to buy a home in Declan and Sloane’s neighborhood that has enough bedrooms for all the future Quinns. What it didn’t have was a kitchen my queen approved of, so I’ve spent the last year living in a construction zone.

I complain about it a lot, but only so Reyna feels bad and wants to make it up to me.

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We arrive at Declan and Sloane’s just as Sloane is opening the front door for Malek. She gives him a hug, making me glower.

Reyna sighs. “Oh, honey.”

I growl, “I’ll play nice for the sake of politics, but I still hate him.”

“I know. And thank you.”

“He shot Kieran, by the way.”

Her eyes widen. “Really?”

Kieran chuckles. “Aye. Three times. Tickles me pink every time I walk into a room with that big ugly bastard there, knowin’ how vexed he must get to see me grinnin’ at him like a bloody jack-o’-lantern.”

“That’s the spirit! Now stop scowling, Quinn, and please help me out of this ridiculous vehicle you call a car. I don’t want to fall out and break a leg.”

“Ah. Another of your not-so-subtle hints to buy a Mercedes sedan.”

She smiles sweetly at me. “Don’t be silly. I know you’d never buy one of those. Only adults drive them.”

“Only old people and sheiks drive them.”

“You say that like you know any old people. Or sheiks.”

I open the door and take her hand, helping her slide across the seat toward me. Then I pick her up and kick the door closed.

As I carry her over the path toward the front door, she sighs.

“Don’t say it. I know you’re capable of walking, but as long as there’s bloody snow on the bloody ground, I’ll carry you.”

“You didn’t carry me out of the meeting.”

“You only had to walk ten feet.”

She says tartly, “So there’s a ten-foot limit to my allowable mobility?”

I growl, “There’s a paddle with your name on it is what there is.”

“The day I allow you to spank me is the day Sloane eats a doughnut.”

“Does it count if she doesn’t know it’s a doughnut? Because I’ll gladly roll a Krispy Kreme in dirt and rabbit turds and tell her it’s made from organic quinoa and steel-cut oats.”

Laughing, Reyna drops her head to my shoulder. “I’ll take that deal. But I have to be in the room to see her face when she eats it.”

As we enter the house, I’m already plotting how I can excuse myself to make a run to the nearest Krispy Kreme store.

I set Reyna onto her feet carefully inside the front door, then give Sloane a hug. She hugs Reyna and Kieran and tells us Declan has already arrived.

Kieran asks, “How does he like his new driver?”

Sloane smiles warmly at him. “Not as much as the old one. Come on in, guys. You can leave your coats on that divan.”

When we enter the living room, Nat and Kage are sitting on a sofa on one side of the room. Cuddled in her arms is their new baby boy, Kaz, named after his horrible father.

Kaz is swaddled in a blue blanket and has so much thick black hair, it looks as if he’s wearing a fur helmet.

Sitting on the same sofa are Malek and Riley. She’s handing him their infant, Mik. He’s older by a few months than Kaz, but has half the hair.

It’s also black, though. Like his father’s heart.

Standing in front of the fireplace holding a crystal glass filled to the rim with Scotch is Declan, looking like he’s fighting off a violent bout of diarrhea.

He makes that face a lot, though, so it’s hard to tell if the Russians are the problem.

Sloane waves us in, then says, “Everybody, before we get started with the festivities, I have an announcement to make. Oh, there’s Aria. Come sit.”

Emerging from the kitchen is Aria, a pretty young lass with twinkling brown eyes and dimples. She makes a beeline for Kieran, plants a kiss onto his ruddy cheek, then pulls him down with her onto a loveseat near the fireplace.

Reyna and I remain standing with our arms clasped around each other’s waists.

I’m expecting some saccharine speech about friends, family, and all the other holiday shite. So I’m surprised when Sloane walks over to Declan, winds her arm through his and says somberly, “Something has happened. We wanted to tell you first.”

“Oh shit,” says Nat, wide-eyed. “I knew it.”

Sloane wrinkles her nose. “You knew what?”

Nat glances around the room, down at her baby, then back up at Sloane. “That all this was too good to last.”

Sighing, Sloane says, “Babe, we need to talk about that doom-and-gloom attitude. What I was going to say is…” She pauses for dramatic effect, then blurts, “I’m pregnant!”

Reyna gasps in surprise. Aria, Nat, and Riley squeal in glee.

Then Sloane adds, “With twins!” and the squealing turns to shrieks of happiness.

Malek and Kage are wearing identical expressions of disgust, which makes Declan smile smugly.

“Congratulations, mate,” I say, extending my hand. He shakes it, grinning from ear to ear.

“Thank you. We’re very excited.”

“Twins,” says Reyna wistfully. “How wonderful!”

I tighten my arm around her, smiling wide because I know we’re going to have a bloody grand time trying for twins next time around.

I can already imagine the wicked fun it will be.

Sloane laughs, glowing with happiness. “Okay, now that’s off my chest, let’s party!”

Declan says, “You’ll not be partying with my babies in your belly!”

“I’ll be having sparkling cider, sweetie. Don’t get your panties in a wad.” She kisses him, then turns back to the girls and throws her arms in the air. “Partay! Partay! Partay!”

As Declan shakes his head, I lean down and murmur into Reyna’s ear, “I think we need to go to the loo.”

“We? Do you need an extra hand?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

Smiling, I take her by the shoulders and tell the others we’ll be right back. Then I steer her down the hallway toward Declan’s office. I turn her into the powder room halfway there and lock the door behind us.

Backing up toward the sink, Reyna says, “Are you all right?”

“Better than ever, viper. Better than ever.”

I take her in my arms and kiss her hard. She responds as she always does, with a soft sigh, her body instantly melting against mine.

My own body responds as it always does, too, sending most of the blood in circulation straight to my cock, so I’m left feeling dizzy.

“My gorgeous gladiator,” she whispers against my mouth, opening her eyes to gaze up at me. There’s so much love in that look, it makes my dick even harder.

“My beautiful queen. I need to fuck you.”

“Now?”

“Now.”

She laughs a husky, happy laugh, winding her arms more tightly around my shoulders.

“Okay, Maximus. You’re the boss.”

When I freeze, staring down at her with what I’m sure is a glint of hysterical euphoria in my eyes, she clarifies, “For the next five minutes. Don’t get ahead of yourself, Romeo.”

My smile is savage. I turn her around so she’s facing the mirror, pull up the skirt of her dress, and slide my hand around the front of her hip and down between her legs. The moment my fingers slip under her panties and brush her clit, she moans softly and closes her eyes.

Into her ear, I murmur, “Who do you belong to?”

She answers without hesitation. “You.”

“Aye. Now and forever.”

I work my hand between her legs, my fingers sliding through her heat and wetness. With my other hand I cup her breast, thumbing over her hard nipple. Then I kiss her throat, sucking on it at the same time I tug on her clit.

She exhales a shaky breath. Reflected in the mirror, we look exactly like what we are.

Two people madly in love with each other.

Starting to sweat, I command, “Spread your legs wider, wife.”

She obeys me immediately, canting her ass back and widening her stance as she leans over the sink. I pull her panties down her thighs, unzip my trousers, and take my aching cock in my hand.

Nudging the crown at her entrance, I say, “Open your eyes.”

Her lids drift open. When our gazes meet in the mirror, I thrust inside her, then grip her hip and thrust again.

Her moan is broken this time. Soft and broken, a sound that makes all the cells in my body fill with supercharged energy. The way she surrenders to me makes me feel like a fucking king.

Then she whispers my name, and I feel like a god.

Invincible.

Immortal.

Capable of anything.

Holding her gaze in the mirror, I fuck her slow and deep, lazily stroking her clit until she’s gasping for breath and shaking all over. She leans farther forward, bracing an arm against the wall.

“Quinn. Oh God. Quinn.”

Panting, I say, “Aye, baby. Give it to me.”

She shudders, gripping my forearm and moaning as I play with her clit and fuck her pussy.

She’s soaking wet, luscious and beautiful, taking my cock as hard as I want to give it to her. She’s everything I’ve ever wanted and so much more than I could ever deserve, and I know without doubt that I will love this woman until my last breath. I’ll love her until the earth stops spinning and the sun flames out and all the stars fall from the sky.

I’ll love her forever.

My wife. My viper. My warrior.

My queen.

I will worship at your feet for all eternity.