Stella: (Book #2.5, The Razer Series) Read online

  He hadn’t come into my bed last night, instead he’d stayed in the lounge. The man never seemed to sleep, I’d heard him pacing and rifling through drawers at all hours. When I’d walked through the flat this morning in the sheerest of negligees I’d had, Tony decreed it was time to take his pound of flesh.

  Hence, I was straddled over the back of my sofa with a thoroughly abused pussy. A hard bite to the back of my shoulder brought my attention back to the moment at hand. Tony had pulled his condom covered cock from my pussy and was now grinding up and down the cleft of my arse cheeks.

  I knew what was coming, he’d threatened it after all. Half exhausted, half sated, I just wished he’d get the fuck on with it. I had places to be and things to do. Tony’s stamina was eating into my time. I didn’t give a toss where he stuck his cock, it was all good to me, he just needed to get a bloody move on.

  The last hour had been a hate fuck, there was no disguising the way he had been rough, too rough at times. But that was exactly how I liked it, if he thought he was doing me a disservice screwing me that way, he was sadly mistaken. I liked dirty and raw, Tony had been both. He’d slapped, pulled, sucked, shoved fingers in holes and tossed me around like a rag doll. When his big hand wrapped around my throat and he cut off my air, I fucking soared and exploded into a million tiny pieces of ecstasy. I was a complete mess, gushing all over his cock and shouting to the high heavens. He’d loved it and pounded my pussy until my high dissipated.

  Oh, Tony could fuck all right. And fuck he did.

  Yet he didn’t do what I expected. As I clung to the draylon on my sofa, he nudged his fat cock back between my legs and lunged inside me again. I could hardly catch my breath at the harsh punishment he was delivering to my body. It didn’t take him long before he was rigid behind me, a harsh grunt bellowing against my shoulder blades. The sigh I let out was one of relief. The man could go on for ever and I was very much aware I was no longer a spring chicken. I ached in places I hadn’t ever before.

  Jesus. I stayed where I was as Tony collapsed to the side of me, his ragged breaths loud in the silent room.

  “Magic pussy,” he laughed while serving another stinging slap to my arse cheek.

  Fumbling around for the barely there negligee, I caught the edge of the garment with my fingertips, dragging it to my chest and covering my breasts. Only then did I move form the back of the sofa.

  I needed a shower, space to figure out my next move. Having not been in my bedroom, Tony had not had the opportunity to snoop through anything in there and I was thankful for it. That part would be easy at least.

  “Shower,” I grumbled, staggering from the lounge and along the hall to the bathroom, his laugh chasing me.

  “Magic pussy,” he hollered as I shut the bathroom door and leaned against the wood. Fucker!

  Taking as much time as I dared in the shower because the clock was moving fast, hadn’t planned on Tony taking up any of my time this morning, so I was already cutting it fine. My destination was a good forty minutes away, and I needed to be there. If I was late, nothing else would fall into place the way I’d planned it.

  Gingerly washing and rinsing sore bits and red bits, I snapped off the water and climbed from the cubicle to get dried. I had a renewed vigour now I felt somewhat clean. The bathroom door crashed open and the sight made me stop towelling my hair. Tony stood in the door, cock still hard, filled condom between his fingertips. Did I mention this man was gorgeous? Because he was and if I had been any other woman I would have tried to keep hold of him.

  I pointed to the shower. “Have at it.”

  He looked me up and down, satisfied with my soaking wet hair and towelled body. He threw the condom in the little trash can then stepped into the shower cubicle. Popping his head around the glass door he basically growled for me to stay where I was.

  “I need my moisturiser.” The complaint was bullshit, I didn’t use the stuff.

  “Two seconds.”

  Turning the shower on he gave me his back as I scooted from the steamy room. I had one shot. One shot to put Tony down and I was taking it now.

  A few quick steps later and I was down on my hands and knees, reaching for the cardboard box I’d stashed beneath my bed four days ago. I fumbled around for the hard case inside as I hauled the box into view, smiling triumphantly when I retrieved it. Snapping the black case open with ease, I extracted one of the three preloaded syringes that were disguised as pens. Holding it up, I flipped the lid and eyed the contents, hoping it wasn’t going to be a wasted effort.

  I knew people.

  People didn’t know me.

  And for the right price, you could get almost anything.

  I grabbed a pot of foundation from the dresser as I exited the bedroom knowing Tony wouldn’t get the chance to tell the difference and stomped back to where my knight in not so shining armour was. Stroking his cock of all things. I watched as he fisted his erection in one hand and slapped at the tile in front of him with the other.

  Perfect.

  Tony barely glanced around when he was aware I’d returned. “Can I join you?” Dropping my towel, I opened the screen door and stepped inside.

  Shrugging he wanked his cock quicker, a moan rising up his throat. “Suit yourself. But you’ll be on your knees, sweetheart.”

  Oh, like fuck I would be.

  Resting against his back, my hand slid around his waist and down to his groin, my fingers gripping over his as he stroked, anchoring him against me. Leverage to plunge the needle into the back of his arm. It was the easiest place. With whispered words and ice flooding my veins, I sank the syringe into his flesh.

  “Night, night, Tony. Until we meet again, sweetheart.”

  Stella

  The grey van was registered to my neighbour back home, and it was slow as fuck. I’d seriously underestimated how long it took to get to Beaufort. I’d left the flat in a hurry; soaking wet hair, grey sweatpants and sunglasses. I’d thankfully remembered to put on a bra under the mom looking t-shirt I’d bought in the supermarket the other day. How did people dress this way and think it was okay? I was seriously depressed over the state of myself. I’d donned the dark, bobbed wig the second I’d got in the van so as not to be recognisable. You’d have to know me and look hard to realise who I was underneath the half-arsed disguise I’d scraped together in haste.

  The stench of the fresh cut flowers that had been left in the back of the van overnight, cloyed at me the whole drive, my eyes watering, my nose stuffy. I had forgotten how much I hated flowers, how miserable they had made me when left in the house, never mind a van for a full twenty-four hours. Still, they looked fresh. They looked grand. They looked fit for a wedding. Even if I wasn’t.

  Bringing the van to halt on the gravel in front of the house, I took a moment to collect myself, swiping a tissue under my runny nose and checking out my face in the mirror. I looked composed enough, so I slid from the driver seat, moving to the back to collect the flowers.

  Barely a minute had elapsed since ringing the bell before the door was being inched open with caution. I didn’t bother to hide behind the obnoxious bouquet, like they do in silly movies, Philip Hamilton would not recognise me.

  Half arsing a broken accent, I drawled out my words. “Delivery for a Miss Taylor Hamilton?” I posed it as a question, the way most delivery folks did.

  “Oh, wow.” The door opened wider and I was beckoned into the large hallway. “Please, come in.” Stepping inside, I made a show as if to struggle with the large display. It worked like a charm. “Let me take those from you.”

  Obediently handing him the flowers, I reached into my pocket for the fabricated invoice, drawing out the pen with it. Philip turned his back, placing the vase of flowers on a table off to the side and I took the moment as the opportunity I required.

  Popping the cap from the end of the pen, I exposed the needle and drew it high as I stepped in behind him, swiftly jabbing his neck and watching as he startled and whipped his head around.
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  “What the…”

  There was no finished sentence for Philip Hamilton. He stumbled, then collapsed in a heap on the floor not two feet away from me. I didn’t care that his head made a loud thunk against the floor as he went down. He was out, it was all that mattered.

  Pulling on latex gloves, being careful not to touch a single thing, I raced through the downstairs of the house in search of my prize, the baby monitor in the kitchen shedding light on where she was. Bounding up the stairs two at a time, I easily found the source of the soft ahhing I’d heard downstairs. When I reached the nursery, I stopped at the door and simply watched the baby playing with a rabbit mobile above her head. She was adorable, so much so, I sucked in a breath and reminded myself what I was doing this for.

  For a moment, I faltered. Her innocence catching me off guard. She wouldn’t remember, no harm would come to her. Shaking off the unwelcome and unfamiliar feelings that were trying to settle under my skin, I strode forward with resolved purpose, picking up little Emily Laurent from her crib.

  I wouldn’t see it but knowing Ryder would be besides himself at his precious child being missing, I smiled like I hadn’t in a very long time. I had no intentions of hurting her, it wasn’t my thing. But by fuck - I was going to hurt him. Ryder was going to rue the day he’d ever met me and stuck up for his friend for so long.

  Payback was a bitch.

  Her name was Stella.

  Stella

  “Thank you,” I said graciously to the nanny I’d found online a few days earlier. “I can normally take her to my appointments, manage on my own,” I exhaled with exaggeration, “but not today.”

  I’d posed as the hattered single mother needing childcare on short notice. The third company I’d enquired at fit the bill and sent enrolment forms through email. I’d hurriedly returned them with only two boxes holding the truth. Emily’s name and her date of birth. The phone number I’d provided was of the burner I was just about to ditch.

  “She’s such a little sweetheart.”

  Having only travelled one town over, I was surprised the baby had fallen asleep, the lull of the van on the road must have been a comfort thing and enough to settle her down. She’d yet to waken from her nap and I silently thanked the Lords for a little piece of luck. There had been a baby bag at the front door which I’d grabbed along with premade bottles from the fridge, I wasn’t completely clueless when it came to children, understood what they needed even if I’d never been hands on with Ayden when he was small. Taylor was one organised, efficient woman. I’d give her that.

  “I’ll only be two hours at the most.” It was a lie, but I leaned over the baby seat and acted the doting mother, kissing the fuzzy head of Emily. I inhaled her scent and closed my eyes. Babies were fucking precious.

  “She’s in excellent hands, Miss Laurent.” I hovered a minute, the use of Ryder’s last name making me cringe, it looked like I was anxious to leave my baby. The nanny reached out and patted my arm. “She’ll be fine, I promise.”

  “Okay, okay,” I gushed out, peering down at the cheap black watch strapped to my wrist. “Two hours.”

  Another kiss to Emily’s head, then I turned and left. She was getting to me and I needed away from the baby, I didn’t feel good, didn’t feel smug but there was no backing out now. She’d be easy to find if they looked hard enough and in the right places.

  Getting back in the van, I thought about Ayden. About my son who despised me for all the right reasons. I’d done it on purpose, I was not a good woman and he shouldn’t be anything like me. I’d taken a step back from day one, left him in the capable hands of his father, something I didn’t expect him to ever understand. Ayden was as close to a conscience as I would ever get. He was a good boy, so much like his father, none of it my influence. And I was just about to bring his world to a screaming halt. All so I could hurt Lucca in the worst of ways.

  I had an hour left. My next course of action would be the final nail in the coffin, an alienation of the worst kind. I wasn’t coming back from what I was about to do. People were going to be hurt.

  If my son didn’t totally loathe me, he would by day’s end.

  We’d all made our beds. It was time to lay in them.

  Ayden

  “We’ve to be there for twelve.”

  “At Ryder’s?”

  “Yeah. My dad’s doing something at the house, so we’re not allowed in there.”

  Shaun grinned at me. “What’s the old devil up to?”

  “No idea,” I shrugged.

  I’d guessed it was between him and Laura, he’d not let me in on the details just said the house was out of bounds. Wasn’t my place to argue. I licked the jam from my thumb, cursing that there was more on the counter than on my toast.

  “Big day tomorrow.” Shaun was stating the obvious and I glared mockingly at him.

  He leaned against the door frame, watching me making a mess of jam and bread. He was dressed in tight jeans and a white cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his arms a stark contrast to the clean, crisp, shirt. My man was fucking hot.

  “Stop it!” he chastised, whacking my arse playfully on the way past.

  “Can’t help it,” I mumbled around a mouthful of something less tasty than my boyfriend.

  “Where’s Soph?”

  “In her room.” Where she preferred to be.

  She was spending the next two days with us, but didn’t want to do the lunch, and was following on later. Laura had let her borrow her car, I hadn’t pushed her to drive down with us, let her do it her own way. Last thing she needed was a wedding but her and Laura had grown close and I knew she wouldn’t want to miss it for anything. I guessed she needed to psyche herself up to it in her own way.

  “Hurry up, we need to hit the road.”

  I tidied up my mess and wiped down counters. Pecking Shaun’s cheek on the way from the kitchen, I stuffed my feet into my trainers and headed for the bedroom to collect the garment bags. My mood was light and jaunty, excited for the next couple of days. We’d be surrounded by family and celebrating, what was not to like? My dad had booked out the venue and everyone was staying at the hotel. I perceived a messy night at the bar tomorrow after the nuptials.

  We said our goodbyes to Sophie, packed our duffel bags into the boot of the car then set off for Beaufort. The mood between us was carefree, Shaun and I were in a good place, despite the reappearance of my mother. We’d been given a somewhat guarantee she would be no threat for the next few days at least. After that was anyone’s guess. I didn’t know the ins and outs, didn’t want to but I liked that we didn’t have to constantly look over our shoulders for a while. We could relax and enjoy, just like you’re meant to at a wedding.

  Half way to Beaufort, driving along the coastal route we so often took, Shaun burst into tune. He was nowhere near as good as he thought he was, but he held a tune well enough I wasn’t cringing. While he crooned along to Royals by Lorde, I laughed, enjoying our time together.

  I totally missed the van coming along the side. Until I didn’t.

  Not having seen it out the corner of my eye, on impact, my head lashed to the side while my body jolted one way then the other, my neck snapping back and smacking the window. Like a slow-motion action scene from a movie, everything around me stilled and my eyes met hers briefly. The hit of the glass against my skull thundered a second time, my eyes closing in pain, the vision of my mother behind the wheel of the van, haunting.

  I had no time to think on it as I flailed my arms, the car rolling, tumbling over the metal safety barriers that hugged this stretch of road. I shouted for Shaun over and over, my hands reaching for him, grasping only air.

  His scream pierced my ears, the sound frightening, my own cries loud and frantic. Blood ran into my eyes, so I couldn’t easily see where he was, I couldn’t grab him. The noise of glass shattering and metal scraping thundered around us.

  Then it stopped. Everything just stopped.

  The reek of diesel permeated t
he inside of the car. From my position I could tell we were tilted, the passenger side beneath me. The seatbelt was choking me but holding me in place, preventing me from falling further down, the airbag cushioning from the front. If I unclipped the belt I’d fall on Shaun, so I stayed where I was. Using the sleeve of my jumper, I swiped at my eyes and the side of my head, mopping up blood. I needed to get a look at Shaun and figure out how much trouble we were in.

  Because we were definitely in trouble.

  Big trouble.

  “Shaun?” No answer, I tried again, my voice more than a whisper the second time. “Shaun?”

  Where the fuck was he?

  “Shaun!”

  I still couldn’t see, everything a blur of red. Pain registered in my head and it was only then I started to panic. I’d already had a head injury last year that had put me in a coma. I didn’t need another, and I had to help Shaun.

  “Shaun? Shaun! Fucking talk to me, man.”

  Squeezing my eyes shut in panic and rage, I cried. I wasn’t ashamed of doing so, hell no. I cried because I was stuck, couldn’t see or find him and it terrified me. Had he been thrown from the car on the way down? Was he injured? Was he dead? I swiped that last thought from my head.

  No. No!

  The tears helped clear my vision, washing out residual blood I hadn’t managed to blot with my jumper, and when I stopped snivelling I could see better. Still blurry, but better.

  What I saw when I looked to the bottom of the car chilled me to the bone. Fuck. Shaun was a crumpled mess against glass and metal, the window blown out underneath him. There was blood, so much blood, and I saw bone, I was almost sick at the sight. I could barely make out the contours of his face, a huge gash across his cheek the source of the blood.